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LIBRARY 


Theological   Seminary, 

PRINCETON,    N.  J. 

Case,„<^'^rrr:.>-rrr:. D-ivJ5  ion ! . . . 

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SERMONS 


BT 


HENRY   EDWARD  MANNING,  M.  A. 

ARCHDEACON  OF  CHICHESTER. 


SERIES    THE    FIRST 


SECOND    AMERICAN    FROM    THE    SIXTH    LONDON   EDITION. 


NEW-YORK : 
STANFORD    AND    SWORDS,    137,    BROADWAY 

1850. 


^ 


^f 


BTEREOTYPED  AND  PRINTED  BT 

JOHN    R.    H'aOWN, 

106   FULTON-STREET,   NEW-TORK. 


*    » 


.♦/•A^':-' 

va 


f' 


CONTENTS 


SERMON  T. 

THE    MYSTERY  OF    SIN.  P^Og_ 

By  one  man  sin  enteied  into  the  world. — Romans  v.  12.         .         .13 
SERMON  II. 

CHRISTHNS  NEW  CREATURES. 

If  any  man  be  in  Christ,  lie  is  a  new  creature:   old  things  are 
passed  away:  behold,  all  things  are  become  new. — 2  Cor.  v.  17.     26 

SERMON  III. 

ON  FALLING  FROM  THF.  GRACE  OF  BAPTIS.M. 

t§  - 

^     Remember  Lot's  wife. — St.  Luke  xvii.  32 37 


':^  SERMON  IV. 

THE    MYSTERY    OF    MAN's    BEING. 

I  am  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made  :  marvellous  are  Thy  works  ; 
and  that  my  soul  knoweth  right  well. — Psalm  c.xxxix.  14.  .47 

SERMON  V. 

WORLDLY    AFFECTIONS    DESTRUCTIVE    OF    LOVE   TO   GOD.     . 

Love  not  the  world,  neither  the  things  that  are  in  the  world.  If 
any  man  love  the  world,  the  love  of  the  Father  is  not  in  him. 
— 1  Sf.  /o/in  ii.  15 5S 


•.v;-^ 


8  CONTENTS. 

SERMON  VI.  •   ^ 

m 

SALTATION    A    DIFFICULT    WORK.  PAGE. 

Enter  ye  in  at  the  strait  gate ;  for  wide  is  the  gate,  and  broad  is 
the  way,  that  leadeth  to  destruction,  and  many  there  be  which 
go  in  thereat :  because  strait  is  the  gate,  and  narrow  is  the 
way.  which  leadeth  unto  life,  and  few  there  be  that  find  it. — St. 
Matthew  vii.  13,  14 69 

SERMON  VII. 

A    SEVERE    LIFE    NECESSARY    FOR    CHRISt's    FOLLOWERS. 

If  any  man  will  come  after  me,  let  him  deny  himself,  and  take  up 
his  cross  daily,  and  follow  me. — St.  Luke  ix.  23.         .         .         .     78 

SERMON  VIII. 

CHRIST    OUR    ONLY    REST. 

Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will 
give  you  rest.  Take  my  yoke  upon  you,  and  learn  of  me  :  for  I 
am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart :  and  ye  shall  find  rest  unto  your 
nouls.  For  my  yoke  is  easy,  and  my  burden  is  light. — St. 
Matthew  xi.  28-30 90 

SERMON  IX. 

THE    DANGER    OF    MISTAKING  KNOWLEDGE  FOR  OBEDIENCE. 

But  be  ye  doers  of  the  word,  and  not  hearers  only,  deceiving  your 
own  selves.  For  if  any  be  a  hearer  of  the  word,  and  not  a  doer^ 
he  is  like  unto  a  man  beholding  his  natural  face  in  a  glass  :  for 
he  beholdeth  himself  and  goeth  his  way,  and  straightway  for- 
getteth  what  manner  of  man  he  was. — St.  James  i.  22,  23,  24.     .     99 

SERMON  X. 

OBEDIENCE  THE  ONLY  REALITY. 

The  world  passeth  away,  and  the  lust  thereof;  but  he  that  doeth 
the  will  of  God  abideth  forever. — 1 /oA?i  ii.  17 108 

SERMON  XI. 

THE   LIFE    OF    CHRIST  THE    ONLY    TRUE    IDEA    OF  SELF-DEVOTION. 

All  seek  their  own.  not  the  things  which  are  Jesus  Christ's Phi- 

lippians  u.  2i.      ........         ,   121 


CONTENTS.  9 

SERMON  XII. 

THE    REWARDS    OF    THE    NEW    CREATION.  ''^«- 

Then  answered  Peter  and  said  unto  Him,  Behold,  we  have  forsaken 
all,  and  followed  Thee:  what  shall  we  have  therefore?  And 
.lesus  said  unto  them,  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  That  ye  which 
have  followed  me,  in  the  regeneration  when  the  Son  of  man 
shall  sit  in  the  throne  of  His  glory,  ye  also  shall  sit  upon  twelve 
thrones,  judging  the  twelve  tribes  of  Israel.  And  every  one 
that  hath  forsaken  houses,  or  brethren,  or  sisters,  or  father,  or 
mother,  or  wife,  or  children,  or  lands,  for  my  name's  sake,  shall 
receive  an  hundred-fold,  and  shall  inherit  everlasting  life. — St. 
Matthew  xix.  27,  28,  29 131 

SERMON  XIII. 

god's  kingdom  invisible. 

And  when  He  was  demanded  of  the  Pharisees  when  the  kingdom 
of  God  should  come,  He  answered  them  and  said.  The  kingdom 
of  God  cometh  not  with  observation  ;  neither  shall  they  say,  Lo 
here,  or,  lo  there  !  for,  behold,  the  kingdom  of  God  is  within 
you.— Sf.  iMA;c  xvii.  20,  21 141 

SERMON  XIV. 

THE    DAILY    SERVICE    A    LAW    IN    GOD's    KINGDOM. 

And  they,  continuing  daily  with  one  accord  in  the  temple,  and 
breaking  bread  from  house  to  house,  did  eat  their  meat  with 
gladness  and  singleness  of  heart,  praising  God,  and  having 
favor  with  all  the  people.  And  the  Lord  added  to  the  Church 
daily  such  as  should  be  saved. — Acts  ii.  46,  47.  ...  152 

SERMON  XV. 

THE    HIDDEN   LIFE. 

Your  life  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God. — Colossians  iii.  3.        .         .  168 
SERMON  XVI. 

sins    of    INFIRMITY. 

Watch  and  pray,  that  ye  enter  not  into  temptation :  the  spirit 
indeed  is  willing,  but  the  flesh  is  weak.— Sf.  Matthew  xxvi.  41.  179 


i- 


10  CONTENTS. 

SERMON  XVII. 

SELF-OBLATION    THE    TRUE    IDEA    OF   OBEDIENCE.  PAGE. 

For  if  the  blood  of  bulls  and  of  goats,  and  the  ashes  of  an  heifer 
sprinkling  the  unclean,  sanctifieth  to  the  purifying  of  the  flesh; 
how  much  more  shall  the  blood  of  Christ,  who  through  the  eter- 
nal Spirit  offered  Himself  without  spot  to  God,  purge  your 
conscience  from  dead  works  to  serve  the  living  God  ? — Hebrews 
ix.  13,  14 193 

SERMON  X\ni. 

THE    SPIRITUAL    CROSS. 

About  the  ninth  hour,  Jesus  cried  with  a  loud  voice,  saying,  Eli, 
Eli,  lama  sabacthani  ?  that  is  to  say.  My  God,  my  God,  why 
hast  Thou  forsaken  me  ? — St.  Matthew  xxvii.  46.         .         .         .  205 

SERMON  XIX. 

THE    HIDDEN    POWER    OF    CHRISt's    PASSION, 

And  I,  if  I  be  lifted  up  from  the  earth,  will  draw  all  men  unto  me. 
St  John  xii.  32 217 

SERMON  XX. 

SUFFERING    THE    SCHOOL    OF    OBEDIENCE. 

Though  He  were  a  Son,  yet  learned  He  obedience  by  the  things 
which  He  suffered. — Hebrews  v.  8.        .         ...         .         .         .  227 

SERMON  XXI. 

THE    SLEEP    OF    THE    FAITHFUL    DEPARTED. 

I  would  not  have  you  to  be  ignorant,  brethren,  concerning  them 
which  are  asleep,  that  ye  sorrow  not  even  as  others  which  have 
no  hope.  For  if  we  believe  that  Jesus  died  and  rose  again, 
even  so  them  also  which  sleep  in  Jesus  will  God  bring  with 
Him. — 1  Thessalonians  iv.  13,  14.  .         .         .         .         .         .  243 

SERMON  XXn. 

THE    COMMEMORATION    OF    THE    FAITHFUL    DEPARTED. 

We  shall  not  all  sleep,  but  we  shall  be  changed. — Cor.  xv.  51.      .  252 


«^ 


CONTENTS.  H 

SERMON  XXIII. 

THE    WAITING    OF    THE    INVISIBLE  CHURCH  page. 

And  when  He  had  opened  the  fifth  seal,  I  saw  under  the  altar  the 
souls  of  them  that  were  slain  for  the  word  of  God,  and  for  the 
testimony  which  they  held.  And  they  cried  with  a  loud  voice, 
saying,  How  long,  0  Lord,  holy  and  true,  dost  Thou  not  judge 
and  avenge  our  blood  on  them  that  dwell  on  the  earth?  And 
white  robes  were  given  unto  every  one  of  them ;  and  it  was  said 
unto  them,  that  they  should  rest  yet  for  a  little  season  until 
their  fellow-servants  also  and  their  brethren,  that  should  be 
killed  as  they  were,  should  be  fulfilled. — Revelation  vi.  9,  10,  11.  262 

SERMON  XXIV. 

THE    WAITING    OF    THE    VISIBLE    CHURCH. 

This  I  say,  brethren,  the  time  is  short :  it  remaineth,  that  both 
they  that  have  wives  be  as  though  they  had  none ;  and  they 
that  weep,  as  though  they  wept  not ;  and  they  that  rejoice, 
as  though  they  rejoiced  not;  and  they  that  buy,  as  though  they 
possessed  not ;  and  they  that  use  this  world,  as  not  abusing  it : 
for  the  fashion  of  this  world  passeth  away. — 1  Cor.  vii.  29,  30,  31.  274 

SERMON  XXV. 

THE    RESURRECTION    OF    THE    BODY. 

Behold  my  hands  and  my  feet,  that  it  is  I  myself:  handle  me, 
and  see ;  for  a  spirit  hath  not  flesh  and  bones,  as  ye  see  me 
have. — St.  Luke  xxiv.  39 285 

SERMON  XXVI. 

THE    GLORY   OF    THE   RIGHTEOUS. 

Then  shall  the  righteous  shine  forth  as  the  sun  in  the  kingdom 
of  their  Father.— Sf.  Matthew  xiii.  43 300 


.*  ■«. 


«,. 


Oi'  ii.  'i^  ^ 


SERMON  I. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  SIN. 


Romans  v.  12. 
"  By  one  man  sin  entered  into  the  world." 

Perhaps  there  is  no  thought  more  awful  than  this  :  that 
sin  is  all  around  us  and  within  us,  and  we  know  not  what 
it  is.  We  are  beset  by  it  on  every  side ;  it  hangs  upon  us, 
hovers  about  us,  casts  itself  across  our  path,  hides  itself 
where  our  next  footstep  is  to  fall,  searches  us  through  and 
through,  listens  at  our  heart,  floats  through  all  our  thoughts, 
draws  our  will  under  its  sway,  and  ourselves  under  its 
dominion  ;  and  we  do  not  know  what  it  is.  It  is  a  pesti- 
lence that  walketh  in  darkness ;  nothing  siaj^s  its  advance  ; 
it  passes  through  all  barriers,  pierces  all  strongholds  ;  the 
very  air  seems  to  waft  it  into  our  dwellings.  Now  it  is 
very  awful  to  know  this,  and  yet  not  to  know  what  is  this 
malign  and  deadly  power.  We  read,  that  in  the  beginning 
sin  was  not  in  the  world ;  that  "  by  one  man  sin  entered  ;" 
that  here  it  has  ever  since  abode  ;  that  it  brought  death 
with  it;  that  " death  passed  upon  all  men,  for  that  all  have 
sinned."  iMi|B 

Thus  much,  however,  we  do  know,  that  it  is  a  will 


^ 


^^^±     ^ 


14  THE  MYSTERY  OF  SIN.  [Serm. 

opposed  to  the  will  of  God.     To  make  this  more  clear,  let 

us  consider,  that  whatsoever  or  whencesoever  be  the  origin 

of  sin,  its  home  or  dwelling  is  the  moral  nature  of  God's 

creatures.     So  far  as  we  can  understand,  none  but  moral 

beings  are  capable  of  sin,  because  none  but  moral  beings 

are  responsible ;  that  is,  know  good  from  evil,  are  on  trial, 

are  able  to  make  choice,  and  are  responsible  for  choosing. 

In  this,  we  are  only  saying  that  the  chief  feature,  or  power, 

or  endowment  of  a  moral  being,  is  a  sense  to  discern,  and  \ 

a  will  to  choose  ;  and  that,  as  to  choose  the  good  is  holiness, 

so  to  choose  the  evil  is  sin.    Consider  next,  that  a  will  which 

chooses  the  evil  is  a  will  opposed  to  the  will  of  God.     Sin, 

therefore,  is  a  quality,  or  inclination,  or  posture  of  the  will 

of  God's  creatures,  at  variance  with  His  own ;  or,  to  speak 

less  exactly,  but  more  simply,  it  is  a  will  opposed  to  His. 

St.  Paul  says,  **  by  one  man" — that  is,  by  the  wilful  ^'» 
act  of  one  man — "  sin  entered  into  the  world."  And  fromli"  _  '  ; 
this  we  may  draw  the  following  truths  : —  ^    W 

1.  First,  that  the  entering  in  of  sin  proves  the  presence    .  •    -Si 
of  an  Evil  Being.     We  talk  of  powers,  and  qualities,  and        J^ 
principles,  and  oppositions,  and  the  like ;  but  we  are  only 
putting  words  for  realities.     They  do  not  exist  apart  from       <• 
beings  create  or  uncreate ;  they  are  the  attributes  and  en-  « 

ergies  of  living  spirits.     Sin  entered  in  through  and  by  the  * 

Evil  One  ;  that  is,  the  Devil.  There  is  working  in  the 
world  something  which  is  not  of  God.  All  that  He  made 
was  good  ;  all  was  holy,  full  of  life,  and  immortal.  The 
world  was  a  manifestation  of  God,  of  His  wisdom  and  His 
goodness  ;  man  was  an  image  of  His  being  and  of  His  will. 
All  was  one  ;  all  moved  in  harmony,  having  one  supreme 
and  universal  law.  Things  are  now  divided  by  a  twofold 
movement,  and  are  full  of  diversity  and  opposition,  discord 
and  warfare.     An  Evil  One  has  entered,  and  spread  his 


'^ 


I.]  THE  MYSTERY  OF  SIN.  15 

enmity  throughout  the  world.  For  wise  ends,  God  suffers 
this  rebelh'on  to  smoulder  in  His  kingdom.  Though  He 
might  have  girdled  the  world  about  with  the  precinct  of 
His  own  holiness,  so  that  sin  should  have  never  entered; 
though  at  a  breath  of  His,  even  now,  all  should  once  more 
stretch  out  its  hands  without  sin  unto  God  ;  yet,  for  some 
unsearchable  purposes  of  wisdom.  He  has,  by  the  entering 
of  the  Evil  One,  permitted  the  unity  of  His  works  to  be 
troubled,  and  the  harmony  of  His  creatures  to  be  marred. 
It  is  most  necessary  for  us  ever  to  bear  in  mind  the  person- 
ality of  Satan  ;  for  we  are  often  wont  to  speak  of  sin,  as  we 
do  of  sicknesses  or  plagues,  as  if  it  were  an  impersonal 
thing;  and  we  thereby  lose  all  distinct  perception  of  his 
^  power,  deceitfulness,  and  malignity.  Let  us  always  re- 
'  member  that  there  is,  in  the  world,  as  it  were,  a  new  law, 

opposed  to  the  law  of  God  ;  and  administered  by  an  Evil 
Being,  who  has  entered  and  gained  a  hold  in  God's  creation, 
and  is  therefore  called  "  the  prince  of  this  world,"*  "  the 
prince  of  the  power  of  the  air,"  "  the  spirit  that  worketh  in 
the  children  of  disobedience. "t 

2.  Another  truth  to  be  learned  is,  that,  by  the  entering 
in  of  sin,  a  change  passed  upon  the  world  itself.  I  am 
not  now  speaking  of  physical  evil,  such  as  dissolution  and 
death,  and  the  wasting  away  of  God's  works,  and  the  like  j 
but  only  of  moral  evil.  A  change  passed  upon  the  condition 
of  man.  His  will  revolted,  and  transferred  its  loyally  from 
God  to  the  Evil  One.  By  casting  off  his  obedience  to  God, 
he  lost  his  government  over  himself.  So  long  as  he  was 
subject  to  the  Divine  will,  he  wielded  an  absolute  power 
over  his  own  nature.  The  passions  and  lusts  of  the  flesh 
were  then  pure  affections  held  in  a  bond  of  unity  and  sub- 
^  i|l|Drdination.     When  he  rebelled  against  God,  they  rebelled 

•  St,  Jolin  xiv.  30.  t  Eph.  ii.  2, 


•^^W 


16  THE  MYSTERY  OF  SIN.  [Serm. 

against  man  ;  and  the  bond  of  their  unity  being  broken, 
they  warred  against  each  other,  and  his  will  was  dragged 
away  into  bondage  b}'  each  in  turn.  And  by  this  it  came 
to  pass  that  he  lost  his  innocence ;  the  presence  of  God, 
wherewith  he  was  encompassed,  departed  from  him, 
leaving  him  naked  ;  fear  cast  out  love  ;  from  thankful  he 
became  thankless ;  the  lusts  of  the  flesh  soiled  his  spiritual 
being;  his  will  caught  the  manifold  taint  of  a  world  of  evil ; 
and  through  these  dark  avenues  the  wicked  one  gained  a 
free  entrance  into  his  soul.  He  lay  open  to  incursion  on  all 
sides.  There  were  as  many  breaches  as  there  were  impure 
affections.  And  thus  man's  will  became  one  with  the  will 
of  the  Evil  One ;  and  was  so  drawn  to  it  as  to  move  with 
it;  and  became  apart  of  the  evil  which  entered  into  the 
world.  Thenceforward  man  was  the  representative  of  the 
alien  and  antagonist  power  which  had  broken  the  unity  of 
God's  kingdom  ;  and  his  will  was  bent  in  a  direct  opposi- 
tion to  the  will  of  God.  Such,  then,  as  I  said  before,  is  sin. 
There  arc  one  or  two  further  remarks  to  be  made  on 
this  subject. 

And  first,  that  this  awful  principle  of  sin  has  been  ever 
multiplying  itself  from  the  beginning  of  the  world.  It  so 
clave  to  the  life  of  man,  that  as  living  souls  were  multiplied, 
sin  in  them  was  multiplied  also.  Adam  "begat  a  son  in 
his  own  likeness."  And  every  several  will  born  into  this 
world  is  born  at  variance  with  God.  "  That  which  is  born 
of  the  flesh  is  flesh."*  "  The  carnal  mind  is  enmity  against 
God  :  for  it  is  not  subject  to  the  law  of  God,  neither  indeed 
can  be."t  Every  several  man  contains  in  him  the  whole 
mystery  of  the  fall,  the  whole  principle  of  evil.  It  may  be 
said,  that  at  the  birth  of  every  man  sin  enters  into  the  world. 
All  along  the  line  of  these  six  thousand  years,  every  one  of 

*  St.  John  iii.  6.  t  Rom.  vili.  7. 


I.]  THE  MYSTERY  OF  SIN.  17 

the  countless  generations  of  mankind  bears  by  nature  the 
full  dilated  image  of  the  first  fallen  man.  So  was  the  earth 
peopled,  from  the  first-born  of  Adam  to  the  great  family  of 
all  nations  and  languages  and  people  and  tongues,  ever 
multiplying,  ever  replenishing  itself.  As  sin,  through  the 
power  of  death,  withers  off  generation  after  generation,  so, 
by  its  fearful  hold  in  the  being  of  man,  it  perpetually  re- 
produces itself.  And  here  it  still  abides  in  God's  world, 
carrying  on  unceasing,  universal  warfare  against  Heaven. 
In  the  beginning  there  was  one  man  at  variance  with  his 
Maker.  Nov/  there  is  an  untold  array  of  disobedient  wills. 
Even  the  blessing  of  fruitfulness,  which  God  breathed  upon 
the  earth,  has  become  the  channel  through  which  the  mys- 
tery of  evil  perpetuates,  distributes,  and  muhipiies  itself. 
Such  is  the  fall  of  the  world,  and  such  by  nature  are  we 
ourselves.  Well  may  we  stand  in  awe  of  our  mysterious 
being,  and  pray  to  be  delivered  "  from  the  body  of  this 
death." 

Another  remark  is  this,  that  as  sin  has  multiplied  in  its 
extent,  so  it  would  seem  also  to  have  become  more  intense 
in  its  character.  It  is  plain,  that  in  every  man  born  into 
this  world  there  is  the  whole  of  Adam's  fallen  nature.  The 
fault  and  corruption  is  in  us ;  so  that  we  are  every  one 
*'very  far  gone  from  original  righteousness,"  and  are  of  our 
own  nature  inclined  to  evil.  We  are  born  outcasts  from 
God's  presence,  sullied,  alienated,  and  opposed.  Such  we 
are,  I  say,  by  nature  ;  but  we  become  (except  through 
God's  grace  we  repent)  far  worse  in  act.  When  the  living 
powers  which  are  in  us  become  unfolded  into  energy,  the 
evil  that  cleaves  to  them  unfolds  with  them.  What  we 
were  before  only  in  bias  or  iu.  lination,  we  afterwards  be- 
come in  consciousness  and  wiZ ;  what  we  were  only  m  a 
leaning,  we  become  afterwards  in  a  habit ;  and  a  habit  of 

VOL.  1.-2, 


18  THE  MYSTERY  OF  SIN. 

sin  is  original  sin  full  grown,  and  multiplied  both  in  the 
manifold  kind  and  energy  of  evil.  It  is  plain  to  all,  that 
(except,  as  I  said,  in  penitents)  the  whole  life  of  a  man 
from  birth  to  death  is  a  deterioration.  He  is  ever  becoming 
worse.  Time,  opportunity,  temptation,  are  necessary  to 
quicken  and  unfold  all  that  lies  wrapped  up  in  his  birth- 
sin  ;  and  all  these  are  ministered  to  him  day  by  day.  The 
faults  of  childhood  grow  into  the  sins  of  boyhood,  and  these 
grow  vivid  and  intense,  and  burst  out  into  the  manifold 
guilt  of  after-life ;  and  as  the  heart  throws  up  new  lusts 
continually,  so  the  perverted  reason  complicates  itself  into 
crookedness  and  cunning.  Who  does  not  see  that,  except 
a  man,  day  by  day,  grow  better,  he  must  needs  grow 
worse  ?  Even  they  whose  sins  do  not  become  more  open 
and  profligate,  are  nevertheless  deteriorating.  They  grow 
impure  in  thought  and  vj^ill,  if  not  in  act;  or  hard,  worldly, 
selfish,  and  unthankful ;  or  irreverent  and  consciously  alien- 
ated from  God  ;  or  they  live  on  in  the  world  without  love 
to  God,  and  every  year  chills  and  deadens  them  more  and 
more.  Now  what  is  all  this  but  original  sin  multiplying  in 
kind  and  energy,  and  ever  growing  more  exceeding  sinful  ? 
Better  were  it  for  us  that  we  had  never  been  born  ;  or,  if 
born,  that  we  had  passed  with  no  more  than  the  taint  of  our 
birth-sin  to  the  tribunal  of  Christ;  than  that  we  should  live 
on  only  to  become  twofold  more  the  children  of  hell  than 
before. 

And  if  this  be  true  of  individual  men,  must  it  not  also 
be  true  of  all  mankind  ?  Must  not  the  world,  in  its  long 
life  of  six  thousand  years,  have  grown  worse  than  it  was 
in  the  beginning?  Has  not  the  birth-sin  of  the  world,  so 
to  speak,  unfolded  itself  into  the  variety  and  energy  of  a 
fuller  and  maturer  wickedness  ?  I  think  it  is  plain,  from 
reason  and  from  holy  Scripture,  that  such  a  process  of  de- 


I.]  THE  MYSTERY  OF  SIN.  19 

terioration  has  been  going  on ;  that  the  mystery  of  evil,  no 
less  than  the  m3'Stery  of  godliness,  has  been  strenglhening 
and  unfolding  itself.  Now  we  niust  not  be  led  astray  by 
illustrations.  The  life  of  the  world  is  not  like,  but  analo- 
gous to,  the  life  of  an  individual  man.  Three  generations 
of  men  are  not  like  the  yesterday,  to-day,  and  to-morrow 
of  a  single  being.  We  carry  on  with  us  from  day  to  day 
the  whole  moral  context  of  the  day  gone  by.  We  arc  to-day 
all  we  were  yesterday,  and  something  more.  We  have  no 
breaks  in  our  personal  identity — no  new  beginnings  of  our 
moral  life.  We  do  not  revert  continually  to  our  first  original. 
But  this  is  true  of  the  world,  and  of  mankind  as  a  living 
race.  The  mystery  of  original  sin  is  begun  over  and  over 
again  with  each  successive  generation.  Men  grow  up  to  a 
certain  height  of  the  moral  stature,  and  are  cut  down  and 
laid  in  the  earth  :  their  children  rise  up  more  or  less  to  the 
same  standard,  within  certain  limits  which  are  the  conditions 
of  our  being  and  of  our  probation.  The  days  of  our  age 
are  threescore  years  and  ten  ;  though  some  men  be  so  strong 
that  they  come  to  fourscore  years.  And  in  this  short  race 
every  man  has  his  own  beginning  and  ending  of  moral  life. 
All  this  indeed  is  very  true  ;  but  it  is  no  less  certain, 
that  there  is  a  growth  and  accumulation  of  evil  which  in  the 
life  of  the  world  is  analogous  to  the  deterioration  of  character 
in  an  individual  man.  What  we  read  in  the  book  of  Gen- 
esis is  proof  enough.  We  no  sooner  read  that  "  men  began 
to  multiply  upon  the  face  of  the  earth,"  than  we  also  read, 
*'  and  God  saw  that  the  wickedness  of  man  was  great  in 
the  earth,  and  that  every  imagination  of  the  thoughts  of  his 
heart  was  only  evil  continually  ;  and  it  repented  the  Lord 
that  He  had  made  man  on  the  earth,  and  it  grieved  Him  at 
His  heart."*     Now  the  whole  history  of  the  Bible  shows  us 

"  Gea.  vi.  5,  6. 


20  THE  MYSTETUY  OF  SIN".  [&'e:k5?. 

a  continual  unfolding  of  the  sin  of  man.  To  the  first  act  of 
a  disobedient  will,  were  added  the  shedding  of  a  brother's 
blood,  the  great  and  unexplained  fall  of  "  the  sons  of  God," 
and  the  sins  which  called  down  a  decree  rescinding  the  law 
of  creation,  and  brought  the  flood  upon  the  earth.  Then 
through  Ham,  who  was  as  the  original  sin  of  the  new 
world,  came  again  transgression ;  and  Noah  sinned,  and 
idolatry  filled  the  earth,  and  God  gave  men  up  to  a  repro- 
bate mind.  Then  again  in  Abraham  began  a  new  age  ; 
and  once  more  the  line  of  sin  reappeared  through  Abraham, 
Jacob,  Aaron,  Moses,  David,  even  the  chief  of  God's  saints  ; 
after  a  while  the  people  fell  into  idolatry,  and  then  intO' 
unbelief,  and  crucified  the  Lord  of  Glory.  And  then, 
again,  began  the  new  creation  ;  and  among  the  Apostles 
there  was  Judas,  the  forerunner  of  sin  in  the  world  of  the 
regenerate.  And  it  was  expressly  foretold  by  the  Spirit, 
that  in  the  latter  days  there  should  be  perilous  times,  and 
a  falling  away  fi-om  God.  And  v/hat  holy  Scripture  thu& 
declares  to  us,  we  see  actually  fulfilled.  The  history  of 
the  Catholic  Church  shov/s  that  there  has  been  a  deteriora- 
tion analogous  to  the  earlier  declensions  of  mankind.  I  am 
not  now  speaking  of  the  work  of  regeneration,  which  also 
has  been  going  on  in  the  mi<lst  of  this  unfolding  of  eviL 
The  saints  have  been  each  one  growing  holier;  and  the 
Church  has  been  edified  continually,  and  is  rising  towards 
its  perfection.  I  am  speaking  not  of  the  Church,  but  of  the 
world,  and  only  notice  it  lest  it  should  seem  to  be  an  objec- 
tion which  has  been  overlooked.  From  all  this  it  is  plain 
that  there  have  been  four  great  ages  of  the  world  }  that  is> 
from  Adam  to  Noah,  from  Noah  to  Abraham,  from  Abraham 
to  the  coming  of  our  Lord,  and  from  the  coming  of  our  Lord 
to  this  day.  Scripture  tells  us  that  in  the  first  three  there 
was  a  declension  from  God.     It  foretells  the  same  of  the 


l^  THE  MYSTERY  OF  SIN.  21 

fourth,  m  which  we  live ;  and  the  history  of  Christendom 
already  shows  the  partial  fulfilment  of  the  prophecy.  From 
these  great  facts  let  us  look  to  the  laws  on  which  they  rest. 
These  broad  declensions  of  mankind  are  the  direct  and 
necessary  consequence  of  the  progressive  deterioration  of 
the  individual  character;  the  manifold  inventiveness  of  sin; 
the  universal  contagion  of  moral  evil ;  the  infinite  multipli- 
cation and  refinement  in  the  forms  of  disobedience,  arising 
fz'om  the  interchange  of  personal  or  national  corruptions ; 
the  accum'ulating  power  of  tradition,  which  gathers  up  and 
embodies  the  characteristic  sins  of  every  successive  genera- 
tion, and  creates  a,  new  moral  world — a  world  of  wrong 
and  darkness  and  deceit — into  which  the  next  generation 
■enters  at  its  birth.  Sin  is  born  in  us  ;  and  we  are  born  into 
a  world  of  its  own  creating.  There  is  hanging  between 
the  soul  of  man  and  the  realities  of  God,  a  veil  wrought 
up  of  lying  visions;  upon  it  are  traced  the  dazzling  forms 
which  allure  the  sin  that  is  in  him  to  put  itself  forth  in  wilful 
acts  of  evil.  Who  can  doubt  that  they  who  were  born  in 
the  later  times  of  a  declining  age — as,  for  instance,  a  gen- 
eration before  the  flood — were  brought  into  a  darker,  more 
inveterate,  and  therefore  a  raore  wicked  world,  than  they 
who  were  born  soon  after  the  first  sin  of  man  ?  St  Paul,  in 
the  first  chapter  of  his  epistle  to  the  Romans,  teaches  us 
how  the  sins  of  the  heathen  world,  little  by  little,  reached 
their  height;  how  they  began  in  a  shrinking  of  the  heart 
from  God,  and  then  through  pride  men  fell  into  ignorance, 
and  through  ignorance  into  the  most  horrible  rebellions 
against  the  laws  of  nature — of  laws,  that  is,  which  are 
written  even  in  the  passive  and  lower  nature  of  man — in- 
stincts obeyed  by  the  beasts  that  perish.  Idolatry,  again, 
was  a  sin  of  slow  and  subtil  growth.  A  long  course  of  sin 
was  needed,  so  to  deaden  and  blind  the  heart  of  man  as  to 


22  THE  MYSTERY  OF  SIN.  '         [SsBst 

make  idolatry  possible.  Age  after  age  gave  in  its  contri- 
bution :  there  was  a  sort  of  tide,  an  unseen  current,  swelled 
by  many  feeding  streams,  which  bore  along  every  genera- 
tion, as  one  followed  another,  in  the  same  line  ;  so  that, 
besides  the  original  sin  of  each  man,  there  was  a  sinful 
tradition  of  mankind,  which  excited,  and  unfolded,  and 
ripened,  and  carried  it  to  a  maturity  and  strength  which  it 
would  not  otherwise  attain ;  and  every  generation  contribu- 
ted somewhat  to  this  onward  tide,  and  bequeathed  to  the 
next  a  further  measure  of  declension  from  God. 

It  may  be  objected,  that,  nevertheless,  there  has  been 
an  advance  both  in  the  moral  and  intellectual  state  of  man- 
kind ;  and  that  this  view,  therefore,  cannot  be  true.  Ta 
which  it  may  be  said,  first,  that  such  an  advance  would  not 
prove,  that  the  tendency  of  sin  is  not  to  multiply  itself  and 
to  grow  more  intensely  sinful ;  but  that  God,  in  His  mercy, 
is  working  even  more  mightily,  counteracting  all,  both  the 
original  and  accumulated  powers  of  evil.  And  that  is  most 
certainly  true.  *'  Where  sin  abounded,  there  did  grace 
much  more  abound."  But  this  is  not  our  subject ;  we  are 
speaking  of  the  unfolding  of  the  power  of  sin  in  the  world, 
which  is  no  less  certain  than  the  gracious  unfolding  of  the 
mystery  of  godliness,  which  shall  overcome  and  cast  it  out 
at  the  last.  And  so,  again,  it  must  be  said  of  the  alleged 
advance  of  the  moral  and  intellectual  state  of  man.  It  is 
certain  that  in  Christendom  there  is  neither  the  blind  idol- 
atry nor  the  gross  corruptions  of  the  heathen.  Be  it  so  ; 
but  there  are  sins  both  of  the  flesh  and  spirit  such  as  the 
heathen  never  knew.  The  form  may  be  changed  ;  the 
outward  grossness  may  be  purged  off.  There  may  be  sins 
having  less  that  is  akin  to  the  unreasonable  creatures  of 
God,  but  a  nearer  fellowship  with  Satan.  The  personal 
guilt  may  be  no  less  ;  the  opposition  of  the  will  to  the  will 


L]  THE  MYSTERY  OF  SIN.  23 

of  God  may  be  greater.  And  this  is  the  true  life  and  ma- 
lignity of  sin.  Adam's  sin  had  in  it  little  of  grossness,  but 
it  was  int<3nsely  guilty — the  more  so  because  he  was  fresh 
from  the  hand  of  his  Maker:  he  was  nigh  to  God,  and  God 
held  converse  with  him.  Even  so  it  is  with  Christendom: 
the  sins  of  Christians,  though  they  are  refined  and  reduced 
to  never  so  small  a  measure,  are  greater  and  guiltier  far 
than  the  sins  of  Tyre  and  Sidon.  It  is  Capernaum  that 
shall  be  thrust  down  to  hell.  Christendom,  as  Adam  was, 
is  new  from  the  hand  of  God.  He  is  in  the  midst  of  it ;  He 
has  filled  it  with  the  light  of  His  presence ;  His  mercy.  His 
truth.  His  Spirit,  are  revealed  in  it.  We  are  near  God,  and 
He  has  brought  us  to  an  awful  fellowship  with  Himself. 
As  the  mystery  of  godfiness  has  unfolded  in  the  midst  of 
us,  and  the  light  of  it  has  been  forced  into  the  conscience 
of  Christendom,  so  do  even  the  lesser  sins  of  men  become 
far  guiltier.  They  are  committed  against  more  light,  more 
grace,  greater  mercies,  louder  warnings — in  despite  of  the 
inward  pleadings  and  drawings  of  the  Spirit  of  life.  It  may 
be,  that  in  Christians  a  common  lie  is  guiltier  than  the  sin 
of  Achan,  and  the  visions  of  the  imagination  than  the  sin  of 
David ;  and  if  so,  then  it  may  be  a  more  conscious,  naked, 
wilful  act  of  disobedience  in  Christians  to  oppose  the  law 
of  God  in  the  least,  than  in  the  blind  unconverted  heathen 
to  transgress  it  in  the  greatest.  And  therefore  it  may  be 
that  a  multitude  of  sins,  in  deed  and  in  thought,  which  are 
deemed  to  be  consistent  with  the  context  of  a  refined  life, 
are  far  more  intense  provocations  of  the  Divine  Majesty,  and 
express  a  far  more  resolute  opposition  to  the  Divine  will, 
than  the  impure  idolatries  of  the  Gentiles,  or  even  the  back- 
slidings  of  the  Jews.  And,  once  more,  what  shall  we  say 
of  heresy ;  that  is,  obstinate  resistance  to  the  light  of  truth? 
And,  above  all,  of  infidelity  ?     What  must  be  the  intensity 


24  THE  MYSTERY  OF  SIN.  [SmtM. 

of  spiritual  evil  in  such  a  sin  !  How  pure  from  all  gross- 
ness ;  how  keen  and  disembodied,  so  to  speak;  and  yet 
how  nearly  akin  to  Satan !  And  these  are  sins,  I  may  say, 
peculiar  to  Christendom— characteristic,  above  all,  of  what 
is  called  an  enlightened  or  intellectual  age.  What  were 
the  heresies  of  the  Docetse,  or  the  Corinthians,  or  the  Mon- 
tanists,  compared  with  the  scoffing,  ribald  infidelity  which 
reared  itself  up  in  the  bosom  of  the  Church  a  hundred  and 
fifty  years  ago?  Even  where  infidelity  did  not  issue  (which 
was  seldom  enough)  in  the  lowest  sensuality,  yet  what  a 
temper  of  cold,  proud  resistance — what  an  energetic  vari- 
ance of  will  to  the  mind  of  God,  was  there  in  the  heart  of 
an  infidel !  What  a  prodigy  in  God's  world  is  a  professing 
atheist  J  These  are  fruits  not  of  the  green  tree,  but  of  the 
dry.  They  were  not  put  forth  in  the  beginning  of  the  new 
creation ;  but  in  the  latter  days,  when,  according  to  pro- 
phecy, there  have  come  *'  scoffers  walking  after  their  own 
lusts :"  when  we  see  on  every  side  the  words  of  St.  Paul 
coming  to  pass :  "  This  know  also,  that  in  the  last  days 
perilous  times  shall  come ;  for  men  shall  be  lovers  of  their 
own  selves,  covetous,  boasters,  proud,  blasphemers,  diso- 
bedient to  'parents,  unthankful,  unholy,  without  natural 
affection,  trucebreakers,  false  accusers,  incontinent,  fierce^ 
despisei's  of  those  that  are  good,  traitors,  heady,  high- 
minded,  lovers  of  pleasure  more  than  lovers  of  God."* 
One  more  fact  will  be  enough.  If  any  man  would  see  the 
multiplying  power  and  intensity  of  spiritual  evil,  let  him 
compare  the  unity  of  the  Church  in  the  beginning  with  the 
schisms  of  Christendom  now.  The  same  sin  which  entered 
and  destroyed  the  unity  of  the  whole  creation,  has  re-entered 
and  broken  up  again  the  restored  unity  of  the  new.  But, 
to  leave  both  the  past  and  the  present,  let  us  remember  that 

*  2  Tim.  iii.  1-i. 


T^r 


I.]  THE  MYSTERY  OF  SIN.  26 

the  time  is  not  yet  come.  The  full  unfolding  of  sin  has  ever 
been  at  the  close  of  the  dispensations  of  God  ;  it  has  been 
at  its  worst  when  he  was  nearest.  So,  we  are  taught,  it 
shall  be  again.  All  God's  word  foretells  it ;  all  the  face  of 
the  world  bespeaks  the  working  out  of  the  prophecy.  The 
day  of  Christ  shall  not  come,  until  there  "  come  a  faUing 
away  first,  and  that  wicked  be  revealed."  The  mystery 
of  evil,  which  by  one  man  entered  into  the  world,  is  now 
teeming  with  its  mightiest  birth.  Men  have  sinned  long 
and  sinned  greatly  against  Heaven  ;  but  there  is  a  warfare 
coming,  a  strife  of  man's  will  against  the  will  of  God,  in 
the  surpassing  tumult  of  which  shall  all  former  disobedience 
be  forgotten.  The  Evil  One  shall  be  loosed  upon  the  earth, 
having  great  wrath,  "  because  he  knoweth  he  has  but  a 
short  time."  And  all  things  are  making  ready  for  him : 
the  powers  of  spiritual  wickedness  marshalling  themselves 
in  secret,  unfolding  their  legions,  and  unrolling  their  banners 
around  the  camp  of  the  saints.  Hell  is  moving  itself  to 
meet  his  coming.  And  then  shall  the  sin  which  by  one 
man  entered  into  the  creation  of  God  be  at  its  full,  and  the 
world-long  growth  and  gathering  of  this  awful  mystery  be 
accomplished.  It  shall  at  last  stand  forth  in  the  earth,  at 
the  full  stature  of  its  hate  and  daring  against  Heaven ;  and 
by  the  coming  of  the  Son  of  Man  in  glory  shall  be  cast  out 
for  ever. 


SERMON  II. 


CHRISTIANS  NEW  CREATURES. 


2  Cor.  v.  17. 

"  If  any  man  be  in  Christ,  he  is  a  new  creature  ;  old  things  are  passed 

away;  behold,  all  things  are  become  new." 

Such  is  the  change  which  passes  upon  Christians  through 
the  power  of  Christ  our  Lord  j  they  are  made  new  crea- 
tures. And  this  deep  mystery  of  our  own  renewed  being 
flows  out  of  the  mystery  of  Christ's  incarnation.  He  took 
our  manhood  and  made  it  new  in  Himself,  that  we  might 
be  made  new  in  Him.  He  hallowed  our  manhood,  and 
carried  it  up  into  the  presence  of  His  Father  as  the  first 
sheaf  of  the  coming  harvest,  and  the  first-fruits  of  a  new 
creation.  And  we  shall  be  made  new  creatures  through 
the  same  power  by  which  He  was  made  man — by  the  over- 
shadowing of  the  Holy  Ghost.  He  was  born  in  the  flesh, 
we  in  the  Spirit :  His  birth  is  the  symbol  of  our  regenera- 
tion, and  we  shall  therefore  be  conformed  to  his  likeness. 
"  Now  are  we  the  sons  of  God,  and  it  doth  not  yet  appear 
what  we  shall  be  :  but  we  know  that  when  He  shall  appear 
we  shall  be  like  Him  ;  for  we  shall  see  Him  as  He  is."* 

*  1  John  iii.  1. 


Serm.  II]  christians  NEW  CREATURES.  27 

In  the  regeneration,  when  the  Son  of  Man  shall  sit  upon  the 
throne  of  His  kingdom,  that  is,  at  the  resurrection  of  the 
dead  and  the  restitution  of  all  things,  we  shall  be  born  again 
of  the  earth,  as  Adam  in  the  beginning.  In  the  day-spring 
of  the  resurrection  the  dew  of  our  birth  shall  be  "  of  the 
womb  of  the  morning." 

So  much  we  know  generally,  and  of  the  future.  But  St. 
Paul  says,  "  If  any  man  be  in  Christ,  he  is  a  new  creature." 
There  is,  therefore,  a  particular  and  a  present  sense  in 
which  this  is  true  ;  and  this  it  concerns  us  most  of  all  to 
know.  We  will  see,  then,  how  it  is  that  we  may  be  said 
to  be  new  creatures  now ;  and  afterwards  we  may  learn 
some  useful  lessons  from  it. 

1.  And,  first,  we  are  made  new  creatures  by  a  present 
change  working  in  our  moral  nature  ;  that  is  to  say,  through 
our  regeneration  in  holy  baptism.  By  the  love  of  God 
electing  us  to  a  new  birth  of  the  Spirit,  and  by  the  Holy 
Ghost  working  through  that  visible  sacrament,  we  are 
translated  from  wrath  to  grace,  from  the  power  of  darkness 
to  the  kingdom  of  His  dear  Son.  Old  things  pass  away, 
and  all  thins-s  become  new  around  the  regenerate  man. 
We  look  upward  to  a  new  heaven ;  we  stand  upon  a  new 
earth  :  both  are  reconciled  ;  heaven,  through  the  blood- 
shedding  of  Christ,  is  opened  to  all  believers ;  and  earth, 
healed  of  the  original  curse,  is  pledged  to  restore  its  dead. 
We  are  brought  under  the  shadow  of  the  Cross,  within 
whose  dominion  the  powers  of  sin  are  bound.  We  receive 
that  thing  which  by  nature  we  cannot  have — a  baptisnj  not 
of  water  only,  but  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  It  does  not  more 
become  us  to  search  into  God's  secret  manner  of  working 
in  holy  baptism,  than  in  the  holy  Eucharist ;  both  are  sacra- 
ments, both  mysteries,  both  symbols  of  the  eye,  both  gifts 
of  grace  to  the  soul  of  man.     In   baptism  we  are  so  made 


28  CHRISTIANS  NEW  CREATURES.  [Serm. 

new  creatures,  that  we  may  either  grow  daily  to  the  sanc- 
tity of  angels,  or  may  fall,  and  hold  our  regeneration  in 
unrighteousness ;  as  angels  that  kept  not  their  first  estate 
still  hold  their  angelic  nature  in  anguish  and  in  warfare 
against  God. 

2.  But  further;  Christians  are  new  creatures  by  present, 
ever-growing  holiness  of  life — by  the  renewing  of  their  very 
inmost  soul.  They  are  absolutely  new  creatures — new  in 
the  truth  of  moral  reality :  new  altogether,  but  still  the 
same.  I  will  pass  by  the  grosser  kinds  of  sin — for  instance, 
profligacy  of  life,  mockery  of  rehgion,  or  unbehef — and  take 
for  example  two  men  of  opposite  characters ;  a  pure  man, 
whose  heart  and  imagination  is  hallowed  by  the  Spirit  of 
Christ;  and  an  impure  man,  whose  thoughts  and  associa- 
tions are  sullied  and  defiled.  Or  take  a  watchful,  self- 
denying  man,  who  brings  under  his  body,  and  keeps  it  in 
subjection,  so  as  to  be  ever  vigilant,  instant  in  prayer, 
thoughtful,  fond  of  solitude  and  of  lonel}'-  converse  with  God 
in  secret ;  and  compare  him  with  the  heavy,  surfeited  man 
— not  the  gross  wine-bibber  or  glutton  alone,  but  the  man 
that  gives  himself  a  full  range  and  measure  in  all  things 
lawful,  and  of  common  life,  so  as  to  overburden  his  soul 
with  the  cloying  of  the  sated  body,  deaden  the  keen  tact  of 
conscience,  and  smother  the  struggling  pulses  of  his  spiritual 
being.  This  is  a  very  common  character  among  people  that 
are  not  religious.  What  can  be  more  contrary,  more  alto- 
gether several  and  distinct,  than  two  such  men  ?  Or,  to 
take  another  instance.  We  see  some  men  large-hearted 
and  generous,  denying  themselves,  almost  above  measure, 
that  they  may  give  to  the  poor  and  to  the  work  of  Christ. 
They  kindle  with  every  man's  joy,  rejoice  in  his  good,  make 
festival  with  him  for  the  abounding  of  his  happiness  ;  they 
have  tears  for  the  broken  in  heart,  and  seem  to  pass  into 


II.]  CHRISTIANS  NEW  CREATURES.  29 

the  place  of  departed  friends  as  if  they  were  the  same  loved 
spirit  in  another  guise— they  live,  as  we  say,  in  other  men. 
And  let  us  compare  with  such  people  the  man  who  is  greedy 
of  gain  ;  who  has  an  evil  eye  when  his  neighbor  prospers, 
is  busy  and  blithe  when  another  is  stripped  and  smitten. 
Such  men  are  often  seen.  They  are  men  shrewd  in  the 
world's  cunning  ;  men  of  skill  in  doubling  all  the  changes 
of  life,  and  in  meeting  its  emergencies.  They  have  a  sail 
for  every  wind  ;  they  are  far-sighted  and  practical ;  careful 
of  money,  but  not  hard  ;  not  absolutely  refusing  to  give, 
but  giving  scantily,  as  buying  themselves  off  cheaply,  yet 
always  acting  strictly  within  the  constituted  laws  of  right 
and  honor.  Or,  to  take  a  last  and  all-comprehending  con- 
trast, look  at  the  penitent  sinner,  calm  and  self-collected,  of 
a  gentle  bearing  and  a  gentler  spirit ;  shrinking  from  the 
approaches  of  sin  by  an  unerring  and  almost  unconscious 
instinct ;  weeping  for  the  sins  of  other  men ;  mourning  in 
spirit  at  the  recollection  of  past  falls  ;  hating  the  passing 
thoughts  of  evil  which  overcloud  his  soul ;  not  only  confes- 
sing before  his  Father  in  secret  the  sins  of  every  day,  but 
condemning  himself  as  guilty  for  the  very  susceptibility  of 
temptation.  And  then  look  at  a  man  of  no  great  grossness 
of  life — a  sinner  of  the  common  sort — -hardy,  self-trusting, 
venturous  in  the  midst  of  evil,  unconscious  of  its  dominion. 
Evil  words  and  thoughts  do  not  grieve  him ;  he  regards 
them  as  unrealities.  After  he  has  sinned  greatly,  perhaps 
he  is  a  little  troubled  ;  for  a  passing  moment  he  is  angry 
and  irritable  :  but  he  shrinks  the  more  from  God — turns  to 
business — tries  to  fill  his  thoughts  and  wait  f6r  to-morrow, 
remembering  how  often  a  little  time  has  deadened  his  first 
remorse,  and  put  back  his  old  heart  into  him  again.  Now, 
in  all  these  contrasted  characters  there  is  one  common 
basis  ;  there  is  one  common  nature— moral  and  responsible 


30  CHRISTIANS  NEW  CREATURES.  [Serm. 

—a  heart,  a  conscience,  a  will.  They  are  individuals  of 
the  same  race  and  family,  so  alike  in  kind  as  to  be  one  ;  but 
so  different  in  character,  so  diametrically  opposed  by  the 
antagonist  forces  of  moral  energy,  that  no  two  other  things 
can  be  more  two  than  they  are.  They  have  no  fellowship, 
no  common  language.  They  are  each  to  the  other  unintel- 
ligible riddles. 

And  now  let  us  take  not  two  men  of  two  characters,  but 
the  same  man  at  two  stages  of  his  moral  life. 

If  we  could  compare  what  the  lurking  power  of  our 
birth-sin  would  have  made  a  man,  who  from  holy  baptism 
has  been  shielded  and  sanctified,  with  the  actual  energetic 
holiness  to  which  the  grace  of  God  has  wrought  his  inmost 
being,  we  should  understand  the  deep  mystery  lying  in  the 
words,  "If  any  man  be  in  Christ  he  is  a  new  creature." 
But  as  we  can  measure  powers  only  in  their  effects,  we 
must  take  the  common  case  of  a  man  in  whom  an  after- 
repentance  and  change  of  heart  abolishes  his  former  self. 
Compare  together  the  earlier  and  the  latter  state  of  the  man 
who  was  once  impure,  and  is  now  chaste;  who  was  luxu- 
rious, and  is  now  mortified  in  the  flesh  ;  who  was  grasping 
and  worldly,  and  now  vests  the  right  and  disposal  of  all 
he  has  in  Christ  his  Lord  ;  who  was  once  dead  and  im- 
penitent, and  is  now  broken  in  heart ;  though,  by  the  line 
of  identity  which  runs  deeply  through  all  his  life,  in  boy- 
hood, youth,  and  manhood,  binding  all  his  years,  with  all 
their  burden  of  good  and  ill,  in  one  single  consciousness  ; 
and  by  the  stern  rule  of  moral  responsibility,  which  rivets 
his  former  self  with  an  iron  bond  about  him  to  the  last — 
though  by  these  laws  of  our  being  he  is  one  and  the  same 
man  still,  yet  in  all  other  things  is  so  two  as  light  and  dark- 
ness cannot  be  more  distinct. 

And  that  because  two  wills  bent  contrary  ways  are,  in 


11.]  CHRISTIANS  NEW  CREATURES.  31 

moral  truth,  not  more  two  than  one  which  has  had  two 
contrary  determinations.  It  is  not  in  the  multitude  of  wills 
that  men  are  so  truly  several  and  divided  as  in  their  con- 
trary and  conflicting  bias.  All  the  lights  of  heaven,  and  all 
the  water-springs  of  the  earth,  all  the  angels  of  God,  all 
spirits  and  souls  of  the  righteous,  are  but  one  in  the  same- 
ness of  their  common  nature.  They  all  are  one  perfect 
unity.  It  is  moral  contradiction — moral  conflict — the  clash 
of  moral  antagonists,  that  makes  God  and  man  to  be  two, 
and  the  race  of  man  as  divided  as  it  is  numerous  ;  and  so 
is  it  in  every  living  soul  changed  by  the  grace  of  God.  He 
was  an  evil  being,  he  is  a  holy  one  ;  that  is,  he  was  an  old, 
he  is  a  new  creature.  Such  were  Manasseh  and  Maofda- 
lene  ;  such  the  apostle  Paul ;  such  was  even  St.  John, 
once  ambitious  and  fiery,  but  afterwards  meek  and  patient, 
taking  the  scourge  with  joy  for  his  Master's  sake.  For  he, 
too,  had  grown  into  a  new  creature.  He  had  learned  thinars 
unutterable,  lying  on  his  Master's  bosom  ;  he  had  there 
looked  with  steadfast  gaze  into  the  clear  depths  of  our  Re- 
deemer's love,  and  by  gazing  he  had  grown  into  the  likeness 
of  his  Lord.  Such  is  the  law  of  our  regeneration  ;  and  so 
must  we  be  ever  changing  from  old  to  new.  It  is  a  chanore 
as  searching  and  as  absolute  as  can  be  in  the  limits  of  the 
same  being.  When  the  flesh  is  subdued  to  the  spirit,  and 
Satan  bruised  under  our  feet,  this  old  world  passes  away  as 
a  shadow ;  the  new  stands  out  as  the  visible  reality  from 
which  the  shadow  fell :  and  the  whole  man  o;rows  into  a 
saint.  The  lowliest  and  most  unlettered  man,  to  whom 
written  books  are  mysteries — the  tiller  of  the  ground — the 
toiling  craftsman — the  weary  trader — the  poor  mother  fos- 
tering her  children  for  God — the  little  ones  whose  angels 
do  always  behold  the  face  of  their  Father  in  heaven — all 
these,  by  the  Spirit  of  Christ  working  in  them,  are  changed 


32  CHRISTIANS  NEW  CREATURES.  [Serm. 

into  a  saintly  newness,  and  serve  with  angels,  and  look  into 
the  mystery  of  God  with  cherubim,  and  adore  with  the  ser- 
aphim of  glory. 

Now,  if  this  is  to  be  a  new  creature,  we  may  well  stand 
in  awe  of  our  great  and  holy  calling  to  be  members  of 
Christ.  What  an  awful  change  has  passed  upon  each  one 
of  us  when  we  knew  it  not.  How  fearful  is  the  relation 
into  which  we  have  been  brought  to  the  spiritual  world  ! 
how  nigh  to  the  unseen  presence  of  the  Word  made  flesh, 
and  to  the  person  of  the  Holy  Ghost !  How  appalling,  then, 
is  this  view  of  our  state  as  Christians  !  We  ai-e  wont  to  look 
without  reflection  on  the  lives  of  men  baptized  like  ourselves, 
and  to  think  that  such  high  mysteries  cannot  be  literally 
understood  ;  that  they  must  needs  be  lowered  by  explana- 
tions, so  as  to  accord  with  the  mingled  state  of  the  visible 
Church  ;  because  we  plainly  see  that  the  state  of  baptized 
men  is,  for  the  most  part,  very  far  from  the  spiritual  condi- 
tion expressed  in  these  mysterious  words. 

For  instance,  what  are  we  to  say  of  sinful  Christians  ? 
how  are  they  new  creatures?  how  are  they  in  Christ?  and 
if  not  in  Christ,  what  is  their  state?  and  what  must  be  their 
end  ?  Surely  a  man  may  say,  they  cannot  be  new  creatures. 
In  them  old  things  are  not  passed  away ;  their  old  sins  are 
loved  as  much  as  ever,  their  old  lusts  as  much  pampered, 
their  old  habits  as  much  indulged.  All  their  old  ways  are 
still  about  them — neglect  of  prayer  and  of  the  holy  Com- 
munion, quick  tempers,  biting  words,  evil  thoughts,  trifling 
with  sin,  impenitent  recollections  of  past  wickedness — all 
these  hang  about  them,  and  they  are  unchanged ;  and  yet, 
for  all  that,  they  are  in  Christ;  well  were  it  if  they  were 
not  so — this,  indeed,  is  their  condemnation.  They  are 
members  of  His  body  ;  they  have  received  that  thing  which 
by  nature  they  could  not  have ;  they  have  resisted  God  and 


1 


SI.]  CHRISTIANS  NEW  CREATURES.  33 

kield  His  grace  in  unrighteousness,  Simon  Magus  was  not 
sanctified,  but  he  was  baptized,  and  his  baptism  was  his 
condemnation.  The  profaners  of  the  holy  Sacrament  of 
die  Lord's  body  and  blood  at  Corinth  ate  and  drank  their 
own  condemnation ;  holy  things  turned  in  their  hands  to 
poison.  Well  were  it  had  it  been  common  water,  bread, 
and  wine — but  they  were  holy.  We  know  not  what  sin- 
ning in  consecrated  things  may  do ;  nor  what  tampering 
with  evil  may  challenge  at  God's  hand.  Saul  sought  to 
witchcraft,  and  the  Lord  raised  up  Samuel  to  foretell  his 
death.  Balaam  tempted  the  Lord,  and  an  angel  withstood 
him  in  the  v/ay,  and  would  have  slain  hira  v/hile  he  knew 
?t  not.  The  sins  of  men  baptized  into  Christ  are  worse  than 
the  sins  of  heathen.  The  handling  of  holy  things  without 
holiness  is  an  awful  mystery  of  condemnation.  Yet  all  such 
men  are  branches  in  the  vine,  though  dying  or  dead — twice 
dead,  waiting  for  the  sharp  sickle  and  the  burning — yet 
branches  still ;  and  in  hell,  it  may  be,  the  water  of  baptism 
shall  scorch  more  fiercely  than  the  fire  that  is  not  quenched, 
and  the  Cross  which  was  drawn  upon  their  foreheads  eat 
into  the  soul  as  if  it  were  graven  with  a  finger  of  flame. 

Again;  we  may  ask  the  same  question,  not  about  greater 
sinners  only,  but  about  all  Christians,  There  is  no  man  that 
iivelh  and  sinneth  not ;  and  hov/  shall  it  be  said  of  any  living 
soul  beset  by  sin,  that  he  is  a  new  creature  ?  Where  is  the 
man  thai  does  not  feel  a  conscious  oneness  with  his  former 
guilty  self?  Who  does  not  feel  within  the  smiting  of  con- 
science, the  vivid  recollection  of  past  sins,  with  all  their 
color  and  aggravation ;  how  he  tempted  the  temptation, 
how  he  courted  the  sin,  how  forgot  his  resolutions  ;  or  how 
he  remembered  his  prayers,  but  sinned  against  them  ;  how 
he  knew  his  own  peril,  but  betra3'ed  himself?  Who  does 
not  feol  himself  at  times  haunted  by  the  self  of  other  days, 

VOL.  I.— 3. 


34  CHRISTIANS  NEW  CREATURES.  [Serb. 

which  seems  to  rise  up  as  a  spirit  of  darkness,  and  cast  a 
spell  upon  him,  and  fix  him  with  its  eye?  It  fascinates 
him,  so  as  almost  to  draw  his  gaze  from  Christ.  In  such  a 
time  it  is  hard  for  a  man  to  believe  that  he  is  indeed  a  new 
creature.  And  still  the  more  when  the  power  of  old  habits, 
and  the  strength  of  old  temptations,  seem  for  a  time  to  pre- 
vail :  when,  even  in  the  holiest  seasons — in  prayer  and  in 
the  holy  Eucharist — thoughts  once  pampered  and  familiar 
thrust  themselves  unbidden  now  into  the  abode  where  they 
were  wont  to  be  welcomed  before.  Sometimes  we  are  all 
but  driven  to  believe  ;  Surely,  I  am  unchanged  ;  old  things 
lie  heavily  upon  me,  and  crush  the  very  life  of  my  soul. 
"  Who  shall  deliver  me  from  the  body  of  this  death  ?" 

Let  us  therefore  learn  some  lessons  of  encouragement. 
Unlikely  as  it  may  seem,  our  most  confident  and  cheering 
hopes  will  be  found  to  arise  out  of  the  awful  reality  of  our 
regeneration.  It  is  because  we  have  been  born  again  that 
we  have  reason  to  be  of  a;ood  coura2;e.  You  have  the  tokens 
of  this  change,  faint  though  they  be,  upon  you  now.  It  is 
true  of  you,  that  in  pledge  and  power  old  things  are  passed 
away.  It  is  a  new  thing  to  hate  what  you  once  loved,  to 
weep  over  what  you  once  rejoiced  in,  to  feel  what  was  once 
unheeded.  What  is  this  but  the  yearning  of  the  new  crea- 
ture to  burst  the  bondage  of  corruption  ?  In  you,  then,  old 
things  are  passed,  as  the  night  is  passed  when  the  darkness 
is  driven  before  the  coming  day ;  and  new  things  are  come, 
as  the  day  is  come  when  the  white  morning  steals  up  the 
sky.  There  may  be  thronging  clouds  and  weeping  showers 
before  midday,  but  to  every  penitent  man  the  noon  shall 
come  at  last.  The  gift  of  a  new  birth  is  in  you  ;  the  earnest 
is  given  ;  and  in  every  one  that  endureth.  He  that  hath  be- 
gun the  good  work  will  perfect  it  until  the  day  of  Christ. 
By  one  baptism  for  the  remission  of  sins  your  transgressions 


II.]  CHRISTIANS  NEW  CREATURES.  35 

are  blotted  out.  They  have  passed  from  the  book  of  God  ; 
and  all  of  the  former  self  that  cleaves  and  clings  about  you, 
God  shall  disentangle  and  destroy.  The  past  self  of  a  pen- 
itent man  is,  after  a  wonderful  manner,  purged,  and  his 
losses,  in  some  part  at  least,  restored.  "  I  will  restore  to 
you  the  years  that  the  locust  hath  eaten,  the  canker-worm, 
and  the  caterpillar,  and  the  palmer-worm."*  Though, 
doubtless,  not  without  some  tokens  of  an  inscrutable  for- 
feiture still  abiding,  they  that  truly  repent  and  return  to 
the  grace  of  their  regeneration  are  made  to  partake  once 
more  of  the  freshness  and  fragrancy  of  heart  which  is  the 
inheritance  of  the  sons  of  God.  Be  of  good  cheer,  then ; 
the  trials  and  the  buffetings  of  evil  are  no  more  than  the 
churlish  days  and  raving  storms  which  come  between  the 
seed-time  and  the  harvest.  The  clinging  taint  of  sins  gone 
by  shall  ere  long  be  cleansed  ;  only  make  sure  of  your 
repentance  before  God — a  repentance  that  shrinks  from  a 
thought  of  evil  as  from  the  second  death ;  and  He  will  finish 
His  own  work. 

And,  lastly:  live  above  this  world,  as  partakers  of  the 
new  creation.  He  that  is  "  the  beginning  of  the  creation 
of  God "  is  knitting  together  in  one  His  mystical  body, 
making  up  the  number  of  His  elect;  and  to  this  end  is  He 
working  in  each  one  of  us,  cleansing  and  renewing  us  after 
His  own  image.  All  things  about  us  teem  with  a  new 
perfection.  For  a  while  it  must  needs  be  that  our  eyes  are 
holden :  were  they  but  opened,  we  should  understand  that 
even  now  we  are  in  the  heavenly  city.  Its  walls  stand 
round  about  us ;  and  they  that  were  seen  in  Dothan  walk 
in  its  streets  of  gold.  We  know  not  how  nigh  are  the 
great  realities  of  the  world  unseen ;  how  truly  they  are 
here,  though  we  see  them  not ;  how  closely  and  awfully  we 

»  Joel  ii.  25. 


36  CHRISTIANS  NEW  CREATURES.  JSekm.  II. 

are  related  to  them  by  our  regeneration.  Therefore  be  it 
our  care  to  live  under  an  habitual  consciousness  that  we  are 
new  creatures,  striving  day  by  day  to  disentangle  ourselves 
from  the  clinging  toils  by  which  this  old  and  fallen  world 
draws  us  to  itself,  and  having  our  "life  hid  with  Christ  in 
God."  And,  as  a  way  to  this  severer  life  of  faith,  live 
according  to  the  rule  of  His  Church  on  earth.  She  bids 
you  to  confession,  and  prayer,  and  praise,  to  thanksgiving, 
and  homage.  She  bids  you  to  fasts  and  festivals,  to  sorrow 
and  rejoicing.  What  are  all  her  chants,  and  oblations,  and 
solemn  assemblies,  but  the  voices,  and  songs,  and  gather- 
ings, and  marriage-feastings  of  the  new  creation  ?  They 
are  earthly  shadows  of  an  heavenly  gladness.  Brethren, 
look  through  them ;  and,  as  through  a  veil  and  in  a  parable, 
you  shall  see  Christ  your  Lord,  changing  old  things  into 
new.  They  do  but  slightly  veil  His  unseen  presence  from 
the  eye  of  flesh.  To  the  eye  of  faith  they  are  as  transparent 
as  the  light  of  noon.  The  whole  Church  is  a  sacrament  of 
His  presence  ;  and  in  all  parts  of  it,  the  man  that  seeks 
Him  in  purity  of  heart  shall  see  Him  with  open  face. 


SERMON  III 


ON  FALLING  FROM  THE  GRACE  OF  BAPTISM. 


St.  Luke  xvii.  32. 
"  Remember  Lot's  wife." 

This  warning,  taken  from  the  familiar  history  of  the  Jews, 
is  a  part  of  our  Lord's  answer  to  those  that  asked  when 
the  kingdom  of  God  should  come.  He  warned  them  that  it 
should  come  with  no  outv/ard  and  visible  tokens — with  few 
forerunning  signs  ;  and  even  those  such  as  the  faithful  alone 
should  read.  "  As  it  was  in  the  days  of  Noe,  so  shall  it  be 
also  in  the  days  of  the  Son  of  man.  They  did  eat,  they 
drank,  they  married  wives,  they  were  given  in  marriage, 
until  the  day  that  Noe  entered  into  the  ark,  and  the  flood 
came  and  destroyed  all.  Likewise,  also,  as  it  was  in  the 
days  of  Lot:  they  did  eat,  they  drank,  they  bought,  they 
sold,  ihey  planted,  they  builded  ;  but  the  same  day  that 
Lot  went  out  of  Sodom,  it  rained  fire  and  brimstone  from 
heaven,  and  destroyed  them  all.  Even  thus  shall  it  be  in 
the  day  when  the  Son  of  man  is  revealed.  In  that  day,  he 
which  shall  be  upon  the  house-top,  and  his  stuff  in  the 
house,  let  him  not  come  down  to  take  it  away  ;  and  he  that 
is  in  the  field,  let  him  likewise  not  return  back.     Remember 


38  FALLING  FROM  THE  GRACE  OF  BAPTISM.  [Serm. 

Lot's  wife."*  Now,  in  thus  calling  up  to  their  recollection 
the  judgments  of  God  in  old  time,  our  Lord  teaches  us  to 
recognise  the  mysterious  movements  of  His  providential 
order,  and  to  learn  the  broad  analogies  by  which  they  are 
controlled.  The  flood  of  waters,  and  the  overthrow  of 
Sodom,  were  forerunning  types  of  judgments  yet  to  come. 
In  the  spirit  of  prophetic  warning  He  thus  foreshowed  the 
overthrow  of  Jerusalem,  and  the  hair-breadth  escape  which 
was  then  awaiting  them.  But  all  these,  including  this  also, 
were  no  more  than  types  foreshortened,  as  it  were,  one  be- 
hind the  other,  of  His  last  coming  at  the  end  of  the  world. 
As  they  were  for  suddenness  and  severity,  so,  beyond  all, 
shall  the  last  coming  be.  As  the  escape  of  Lot,  and  of  the 
remnant  who  were  faithful  in  Jerusalem,  even  so  also  shall 
be  the  saving  of  the  righteous  ;  for  the  righteous  shall 
"  scarcely  be  saved."  As  the  judgment  on  Lot's  wife,  so 
likewise  shall  be  the  doom  of  apostate  Christians. 

And  this  is  the  only  point  we  will  now  dwell  upon.  We 
have  in  this  a  warning  of  a  peculiar  character  ;  we  see  in 
it  an  example  of  the  just  wrath  of  God  against  those  who, 
having  been  once  mercifully  delivered,  shall  afterwards  fall 
back.  She  was,  by  a  distinguishing  election  of  God,  and 
by  the  hands  of  angels,  saved  from  the  overthrow  of  the 
wicked.  We,  by  the  same  deep  counsel  of  God,  have  been 
translated  from  death  to  life.  She  perished  in  the  very  way 
of  safety.  Let  him  that  thinkethhe  standeth  take  heed  lest 
he  fall.  Lot's  wife  is  an  example  of  those  who  fall  from 
baptismal  grace. 

As,  for  instance,  of  those  who,  having  been  made  par- 
takers of  salvation  by  baptism  into  the  Church  of  Christ, 
fall  away  from  it  through  the  overmastering  power  of  sin. 
That  a  man  may  fall  finally,  and  without  hope,  from  grace 

*  St.  Luke  xvii.  26-32. 


III.]  FALLING  FROM  THE  GRACE  OF  BAPTISM.  39 

given,  is  broadly  written  in  holy  Scripture.  Men  would 
fain  have  it  otherwise  ;  and  some  beguile  thennselves  by  the 
dream,  that  they  magnify  the  mercies  of  God  in  contending 
that  the  gifts  of  grace  are  indefectible.  Let  them  beware 
how  they  offer  strange  fire  upon  God's  altar.  God  will  be 
served  only  of  that  which  His  Spirit  hath  consecrated  to 
Himself.  "  When  the  righteous  turneth  away  from  his 
righteousness,  and  committeth  iniquity,  and  doeth  according 
to  all  the  abominations  that  the  wicked  man  doeth,  shall  he 
live?  All  his  righteousness  that  he  hath  done  shall  not  be 
mentioned  :  in  his  trespass  that  he  hath  trespassed,  and  in 
his  sin  that  he  hath  sinned,  in  them  shall  he  die."*  Again  : 
"  If  we  sin  wilfully  after  we  have  received  the  knowledge 
of  the  truth,  there  remaineth  no  more  sacrifice  for  sins  ;  but 
a  certain  fearful  looking  for  of  judgment  and  fiery  indigna- 
tion, which  shall  devour  the  adversaries.  He  that  despised 
Moses'  law  died  without  mercy  under  two  or  three  wit- 
nesses ;  of  how  much  sorer  punishment,  suppose  ye,  shall 
he  be  thought  worthy,  who  hath  trodden  under  foot  the  Son 
of  God,  and  hath  counted  the  blood  of  the  covenant,  where- 
with he  was  sanctified,  an  unholy  thing,  and  hath  done  de- 
spile  unto  the  Spirit  of  grace  ?"t  And  once  more  ;%  "  It  is 
impossible  for  those  who  were  once  enlightened,  and  have 
tasted  of  the  heavenly  gift,  and  were  made  partakers  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  and  have  tasted  the  good  word  of  God,  and 
the  powers  of  the  world  to  come,  if  they  shall  fall  away,  to 
renew  them  again  unto  repentance ;  seeing  they  crucify 
unto  themselves  the  son  of  God  afresh,  and  put  Him  to  an 
open  shame.  For  the  earth  which  drinketh  in  the  rain  that 
Cometh  oft  upon  it,  and  bringeth  forth  herbs  meet  for  them 
by  whom  it  is  dressed,  receiveth  blessing  from  God  ;  but 
that  which  beareth  thorns  and  briers  is  rejected,  and  is  nigh 

•  Ezek.  xviii.  24.  t  Heb.  x.  26.  t  Heb.  vi.  4. 


40  FALLING  FROM  TliE  GRACE  OF  BAPTISM.  [Sekku 

unto  cursing,  whose  end  is  to  be  burned."  Such  is  the  gifft 
of  a  new  birth,  held  in  unrighteousness  :  and  such  the  end 
to  which  every  baptised  man,  who  lives  in  wilM  and  con- 
scious sin,  is  perpetually  tending.  The  sins  of  the  flesh 
and  of  the  spirit  wound  his  inmost  soul  with  a  keen  and 
poisoned  edge;  and  the  wctmds  raokle  inwardly  where 
no  eye  but  God's  can  reach.  There  are  very  many  who  in 
the  visible  relations  of  life  are  without  reproach,  and  yet 
carry  within  a  heart-sin,  indulged  in  secret,  which  eats  into 
their  whole  spiritual  life  v/ith  a  mo&t  deadly  corruption. 
They  have  been  redeemed  from  death,  and  predestined  to 
immortality,  though  they  are  dying  in  the  very  path  to  life. 
Such  are  the  sensual,  the  unchaste,  the  intemperate,  the 
proud,  the  revengeful,  and  the  like. 

But  we  must  not  nan-ow  this  warning  to  the  grosser 
kinds  of  sin.  The  disobedience  of  Lot's  wife  was  not  that 
she  went  back  to  Sodom.,  but  that  she  looked  back.  Doubt- 
less she  verily  thought  that  she  was  pressing  on  to  safety  j 
but  her  heart  was  not  right  in  her.  She  was  disobedi- 
ent in  will,  and  in  the  hankerings  and  longings  of  the 
mind.  The  unchanged  bent  of  the  heart  found  expression/ 
in  a  slight  but  significant  act.  She  looked  back  i  and  that 
forbidden  gaze  betrayed  a  multitude  of  unchastened 
thoughts,  and  a  v/orld  of  disobedience. 

We  must,  therefore,  apply  this  same  warning  not  only 
to  those  who,  through  the  power  of  indulged  sin,  fall  grossly 
from  baptismal  grace,  but  also  to  all  who,  in  any  way,  and 
for  any  hindering  cause,  fall  back  from  the  holine&s  of  life, 
of  which  baptism  is  both  the  source  and  standard.  By 
your  baptism  you  are  pledged  to  a  life  of  sanctity.  The 
life  of  Christ  is  your  example.  Your  calling  is,  to  be  ever 
grovvinii  in  likeness  to  the  Son  of  God.  Who,  then,  is  there 
that  needs  not  to  remember  Lot's  wife  ?     Who  of  us  is  so 


III.]  FALLING  FROM  THE  GRACE  OF  BAPTISM.  41 

inflexibly  bent  towards  God,  as  not  to  be  often  inconsistent? 
whose  face  so  steadfastly  set  to  Zoar,  as  never  to  look 
aside — as  never  to  look  back  2  Where  is  the  man  who  has 
so  repented  of  past  evil,  that  he  does  not  sometimes,  in  un- 
wary thoughts,  cast  back  a  hankering  look  behind  him  ? 
Who  has  so  gained  the  mastery  of  himself,  as  not  to  be 
again  overmastered  ?  Who  has  so  renounced  the  world,  as 
not  to  wax  weak  at  its  allurements  ?  Who  has  so  braced 
himself  to  the  secret  discipline  of  a  self-denying  life,  as  not 
at  times  to  shrink  from  the  hardness  he  has  chosen  for  his 
portion  ?  Well  it  is,  and  better  than  we  dare  hope,  if  there 
be  none  here  among  us,  who,  after  renouncing  a  vain,  tri- 
fling, self-pleasing  life,  have  again  yielded  themselves,  little 
by  little,  to  be  led  by  the  gaudy  follies  of  the  world  ;  none 
whom  the  opposition  of  men  without  God,  or  the  jeering 
banter  of  supercilious  minds,  or  the  imposing  comments  of 
self-important  people,  have  not  slackened,  if  not  checked, 
in  their  flight  from  eternal  death.  Too  surely  there  are 
such  among  us.  The  world  has  a  clinging  hold  ;  gain  and 
ease,  levity  and  the  pomps  of  life,  are  cunning  baits  ;  gibes 
and  laughter,  and  the  grave  mockery  of  familiar  friends, 
are  keen  weapons  of  offence  ;  it  is  no  easy  task  to  bear  up 
against  the  stream  which  is  ever  setting  away  from  God,  to 
keep  the  eye  of  the  soul  ever  waking,  and  to  live  in  con- 
scious fellowship  with  the  world  unseen.  It  is  our  natural 
bias  to  decline  from  God.  There  is  somewhat  within  us 
which  is  ever  slackening  its  intention,  ever  rekindling  its 
old  imaginations,  ever  feeling  around  for  its  old  supports, 
ever  looking  back  on  its  former  self.  What  we  once  were 
cleaves  so  closely  to  us,  that  we  shall  never  be  wholly  free 
till  the  morning  of  the  resurrection.  The  holiness  to  which 
our  baptism  has  pledged  us  is  so  pure  and  high,  that  we 
faint  at  the  greatness  of  our  way.     Of  the  whole  body  of 


•\ 


42  FALLING  FROM  THE  GRACE  OF  BAPTISM.  [Serm. 

baptised  men  on  earth,  none  are  perfect — few  are  near  per- 
fection— many,  it  must  be  feared,  are  energetically  evil. 
And  between  these  two  extremes  is  every  measure  of  ap- 
proach or  departure  from  God ;  and  on  this  twofold  move- 
ment men  are  perpetually  passing  and  repassing,  in  the 
manifold  changes  of  their  moral  state,  and  in  the  partial  re- 
lapses and  recoveries  of  their  spiritual  life. 

Now,  from  all  this  we  must  learn,  first,  that  any  meas- 
ure of  declension  from  our  baptismal  grace  is  a  measure  of 
that  same  decline  of  which  the  end  is,  a  hopeless  fall  from 
God.  I  say,  it  is  a  measure  of  the  same  movement  ;  as  a 
day  is  a  measure  of  a  thousand  years.  It  is  a  state  and 
inclination  of  heart  which  differs  from  absolute  apostacy 
not  in  kind,  but  only  in  degree.  Surely,  the  first  symptoms, 
all  slight  though  they  be,  of  a  pestilence  which  is  beyond 
the  skill  of  healing,  must  needs  be  greatly  feared.  Such 
are  small  sins,  slight  tamperings  with  the  edge  of  con- 
science, half  unwilling  returns  to  forsaken  evil,  passive  re- 
admissions  of  once-banished  faults  ;  all  these  are  the  first 
beginnings  of  an  impulse  and  direction  which  leads  to  a 
settled  determination  of  the  heart  from  God.  Every  day 
the  deposed  powers  of  evil  steal  back,  and  re-assert  their 
dominion  ;  first,  a  failing,  then  faults,  then  a  sin,  then  a 
mingled  throng  of  lesser  acts  of  disobedience — willed,  not 
done,  because,  though  longed  for,  not  as  yet  ventured  on  ; 
and  so  the  whole  character  recoils  in  all  its  parts  from  God. 
How  often  do  we  see  such  examples  in  those  who  have  been 
brought  to  better  thoughts  by  a  sharp  and  threatening  sick- 
ness, or  by  a  heart-breaking  cross  in  life,  or  by  a  cutting 
sorrow  ;  and  yet  afterwards,  in  the  restored  buoyancy  of 
health  or  heart,  have  inwardly  declined  from  the  warmth 
and  sincerity  of  their  better  resolutions  !  It  may  be  they 
were  earnest  for  a  long  season,  and  moved  on  a  higher  level, 


III.]  FALLING  FROM  THE  GRACE  OF  BAPTISM.  43 

had  loftier  aspirations,  purer  joys,  and  keener  sympathies. 
But,  after  all,  by  slight  relapses,  they  sank  back,  and  grew 
comnaon-place,  and  ended  in  a  low,  dull,  dubious  life,  upon 
the  very  boundaries  of  wilful  disobedience. 

We  must  also  learn  from  this  example,  that  all  such  fall- 
ings back  from  our  baptismal  grace  are  great  provocations 
of  God's  most  righteous  severity.  The  sin  of  Lot's  wife 
was  not  only  disobedience,  but  ingratitude.  While  Lot 
lingered,  she  was  saved  by  the  hand  of  angels  ;  "the  Lord 
being  merciful  unto  them." 

And  we,  brethren,  who  have  been  taken  out  of  a  dead 
world  to  be  grafted  into  the  Church  of  the  living  God,  how 
shall  not  we  be  held  in  the  bond  of  a  twofold  guilt  ?  Even 
after  many  and  great  commendations  for  faith,  and  patience, 
and  zeal  for  His  name.  He  that  walketh  in  the  midst  of  the 
golden  candlesticks  warned  the  Church  in  Ephesus  :  "  Nev- 
ertheless I  have  somewhat  against  thee,  because  thou  hast 
left  thy  first  love.  Remember,  therefore,  from  whence  thou 
art  fallen,  and  repent,  and  do  the  first  works  ;  or  else  I  will 
come  unto  thee  quickly,  and  remove  thy  candlestick  out  of 
his  place,  except  thou  repent."*  These  are  awful  words. 
There  are  two  things  which  God  hates — backsliding  and 
lukewarmness  ;  and  these  are  two  which  He  will  avenge — 
an  alienated  heart,  and  a  will  at  war  with  His.  Who  can 
foretell  what  forfeiture  of  blessings,  what  withdrawal  of 
grace,  what  clouding  of  the  conscience,  what  hiding  of 
God's  countenance,  what  weakness,  what  confusion  of  soul, 
may  be  the  righteous  chastisement  of  a  secret  falling  away 
of  the  heart  from  God?  Thus  even  in  this  life  God  looks 
out  upon  those  that  reject  Him,  and  troubles  them  :  and  who 
knows  wherereunto  these  things  may  grow?     "  Remember 

*  Rev.  ii.  4,  5 


4 


44  FALLING  FROM  THE  GRACE  OF  BAPTISM.  [Serji. 

Lot's  wife  ;"  and  who  hath  said,  "  If  any  man  draw  back, 
my  soul  shall  have  no  pleasure  in  him." 

If  these  things  be  so,  how  shall  we  hold  fast  our  stead- 
fastness ?  There  is  no  other  sure  way  but  only  this — ever 
to  press  on  to  a  life  of  deeper  devotion — to  a  lowlier  repent- 
ance, and  more  earnest  prayers — to  a  more  sustained  con- 
sciousness of  God's  continual  presence — and  to  a  keener 
watchfulness  against  the  first  approaches  of  temptation. 
But  all  that  can  now  be  offered  in  particular  is  one  or  two 
plain  rules  by  way  of  caution. 

1.  First  of  all,  then,  beware  of  remembering  past  faults 
without  repentance.  The  recollection  of  our  sins  is  safe 
only  when  it  is  a  part  of  our  self-chastisement.  To  look 
back  upon  them  without  shame  and  sorrow  is  to  offend 
again.  God  alone  can  simply  behold  evil  without  contami- 
nation ;  for  memory,  like  a  gnawing  stream,  gathers  its 
tinge  from  the  soil  through  which  it  winds  its  sullen  way. 
So  is  it,  above  all,  with  impenitent  recollection  of  sins  once 
indulged.  Our  present  character  imbibes  again  the  quality 
of  past  evil.  We  soon  cease  to  fear  what  we  can  endure 
to  think  upon  ;  and  we  soon  grow  again  to  behold  the  lust 
we  once  have  served  with  the  same  eyes  of  favor  and  desire 
as  when  we  were  its  slaves.  There  arises  an  interior  assent 
to  sins  which  we  dare  not  outwardly  commit.  Past  sin  be- 
comes present  by  a  renewed  adhesion  of  the  heart ;  and 
even  though  we  never  offend  again  in  the  same  outward 
form  as  before,  some  new  and  subtler  evil  is  thrown  out 
from  the  stock  of  our  original  disobedience. 

2.  Another  thing  to  beware  of  is,  making  excuses  for 
our  present  faults  without  trying  to  correct  them.  Nothing 
so  wears  down  the  sharpness  of  conscience,  and  dulls  its 
perception  of  our  actual  state,  as  self-excusing.     It  is  the 


Ill]  FALLING  FROM  THE  GRACE  OF  BAPTISM.  4,5 

most  certain  way  to  forfeit  all  true  knowledge  of  ourselves; 
it  directl3'  fosters  and  strengthens  the  faults  we  are  attempt- 
ing to  excuse ;  it  weakens  the  corrective  powers  of  religion, 
the  first  and  chief  of  which  is  a  sincere  confession  of  every 
swerving  of  the  will  from  God.  From  this  there  can  nothing 
come  but  a  declining  heart,  and  an  estrangement  of  the  sore 
and  irritable  mind.  And  these  things  draw  a  darkness  over 
the  conscience,  which  hides  the  face  of  God.  A  little  while 
ago,  and  such  men  were  warm  and  forward  in  religion,  now 
they  feel  chilled  and  backward  ;  for  a  justified  fault  is  a 
harbored  canker,  and  the  repulsion  of  an  alienated  will 
thrusts  them  away  from  God. 

3.  And  lastly,  beware  of  those  particular  forms  of  temp- 
tation which  have  already  once  held  you  in  their  power,  or 
sapped  your  better  resolutions.  Every  man  has  his  own 
particular  character,  and  every  character  its  own  particular 
cast.  We  have  our  characteristic  faults  and  our  charac- 
teristic weakness.  Sometimes  the  same  sins  prevail  again 
over  the  same  man  ;  sometimes  an  opposite  sin ;  sometimes 
lesser  faults,  but  in  a  greater  multitude;  sometimes  fewer, 
but  in  a  greater  intensity.  There  can  be  no  general  pre- 
cepts in  this  matter,  any  more  than  in  the  healing  of  the 
body.  Beware  of  evils  which  have  once  prevailed  against 
you,  as  knowing  their  malignity ;  beware  of  those  which 
have  never  as  yet  had  dominion,  as  not  knowing  what  may 
be  their  fearful  strength.  Beware  of  a  retro  verted  heart, 
and  of  the  glancing  aside  of  the  imagination,  and  of  the 
slack  obedience  of  the  will.  Angels'  hands  have  been 
about  you  from  the  waters  of  holy  baptism.  Their  guid- 
ance, unseen,  unfelt,  has  drawn  you  again  and  again 
from  ills  which  your  hearts  had  chosen.  In  seasons  of 
weakness  they  have  stayed  you  up ;  in  the  hour  of  waver- 


46  FALLING  FROM  THE  GRACE  OF  BAPTISM.    [Serm.  III. 

ing  they  have  kept  you  from  falling.  Before  is  the  city 
of  refuge — behind,  the  world  that  lieth  in  wickedness. 
"Escape  for  thy  life:  look  not  behind  thee,  neither  stay 
thou  in  all  the  plain :  escape  to  the  mountain,  lest  thou  be 
consumed."*     "Remember  Lot's  wife." 

•  Gen.  xix.  17. 


SERMON  IV. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  MAN'S  BEING. 


Psalm  cxxxix.  14. 

"  I  am  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made :   marvellous  are  Thy  works  j 

and  that  my  soul  knoweth  right  well." 

In  the  beginning  of  this  Psalm  king  David  gives  utterance 
to  his  wonder  and  awe  at  the  mystery  of  God's  invisible, 
universal  presence.  And  from  this  he  turns  upon  the  mys- 
tery of  his  own  individual  nature.  It  is  with  hardly  less  of 
awe  and  wonder  that  he  muses  upon  himself.  He  feels  a 
consciousness  that  his  own  very  being  is  an  ineffable  work 
of  God — his  own  body  of  dust,  wrought  after  some  high 
type  of  wisdom  and  perfection — knit  together  in  a  wonder- 
ful order — quickened  by  an  ineffable  breath  of  God — filled 
with  the  powers  of  life,  with  the  light  of  reason,  and  the 
rule  of  conscience — able,  by  memory  and  by  foresight,  to 
make  present  both  things  past  and  things  to  come — to  look 
through  visible  things,  and  make  unseen  things  visible  ;  and 
that  all  this  should  be  himself — that  all  should  be  so  blended 
into  one,  as  to  revolve  about  his  own  will,  and  to  be  instinct 
with  his  own  individual  consciousness — this   it  was  that 


48  THE  MYSTERY  OF  MAN'S  BEING.  [Serm. 

made  him  say,  "  I  am  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made  ; 
and  that  my  soul  knoweth  right  well." 

It  was  from  musing  after  this  sort  upon  God,  that  he 
turned  to  muse  upon  himself.  It  was,  indeed,  by  pondering 
upon  the  mystery  of  God's  nature,  that  he  learned  to  stand 
in  awe  of  the  mysteriousness  of  his  own  ;  by  dwelling  on 
the  awful  thought  of  the  unseen  Being  who  fills  all  things, 
and  quickens  all  things,  he  came  to  understand  that  he  too 
was  a  being  of  a  high  descent,  a  mystery  of  God's  almighty 
power,  and  that  in  the  wonderful  frame  of  his  own  bodily 
form  there  dwelt  a  conscious  soul,  whose  eye  was  turned 
inwardly  to  gaze  upon  itself  Now,  as  this  consciousness 
of  what  we  are  follows  in  a  most  certain  order  upon  a  true 
knowledge,  so  far  as  man  can  have  it,  of  what  God  is,  so  it 
is  also  a  condition  absolutely  necessary  to  all  true  religion. 
There  can  be  no  real  fear,  or  reverence,  or  seriousness  of 
heart,  until  a  man  has  come  to  understand,  at  least  in  some 
measure,  what  he  is,  that  is,  to  realize  his  own  awful  struc- 
ture and  destiny. 

We  will  consider,  then,  some  of  the  thoughts  which 
press  upon  a  mind  conscious  of  its  own  wonderful  nature. 
It  perceives  in  part  an  evident  likeness,  and  in  part  an 
equally  marked  unlikeness,  to  its  Maker. 

And,  first ;  we  know  by  instinct  and  by  revelation,  that 
God  has  made  us  in  one  respect  like  to  Himself,  that  is, 
immortal.  This  bodily  frame  we  look  upon,  although  it  is 
a  part  of  ourselves,  is  but  the  least  part ;  although  it  has 
its  share  in  Christ's  redemption,  it  is  but  the  shrine  of  the 
redeemed  spirit :  we  feel  that  a  man's  self  is  his  living  soul 
— the  invisible,  impalpable  spirit,  which  comprehends  all 
his  being  with  an  universal  consciousness,  and  is  itself  com- 
prehended only  of  God.  The  body  is  its  subject,  its  organ, 
its  instrument,  its  manifestation,  its  symbol ;  it  is  not  itself. 


IV.]  THE  MYSTERY  OF  MAN'S  BEING.  49 

All  things  that  affect  the  body  are  external  to  it,  separate 
from  it.  The  very  life  of  the  body  is  but  a  lower  energy  of 
the  true  life  of  man,  and  is  also  separable  and  distinct.  It 
may  be  quenched,  and  yet  the  soul  shall  live,  and  wield 
higher  powers  and  intenser  energies,  as  unclogged  and  dis- 
enthralled from  the  burden  and  the  bondage  of  its  lower 
life.  It  has  a  life  in  itself,  which,  embodied  or  disembodied, 
shall  live  on — outliving  not  the  body  alone,  but  the  very 
world  itself.  All  things  visible  shall  decay;  the  heaven 
shall  pass  away  lik-e  a  scroll,  the  earth  shall  melt  away 
under  our  feet ;  even  now  all  things  are  hurrying  past  us, 
are  dropping  piecemeal,  are  dying  daily  ;  but  we  shall  live 
for  ever.  We  shall  rise  on  the  heaving  wreck  of  material 
things.  All  men,  both  good  and  evil,  shall  live  on  ;  all  that 
ever  have  lived,  live  still ;  all  that  ever  died  since  Adam — 
Abel  the  righteous,  and  Enoch  that  walked  with  God,  and 
John  that  lay  on  his  Master's  bosom,  Balaam  that  tempted 
the  Lord,  Judas  that  sold  his  Redeemer,  Herod  that  mocked 
the  Lord  of  glory,  the  very  men  that  nailed  Him  to  the  cross  ; 
— all  are  living  in  some  unseen  abode.  In  this  life  they  were 
a  mystery  of  mortality  and  immortality  knit  in  one.  They 
were  in  their  season  of  trial ;  and  their  day  ran  out,  their 
award  was  fixed,  the  mortal  fell  off  like  a  loosened  shroud, 
and  the  immortal  spirit  passed  into  the  world  unseen. 

And,  in  the  next  place,  we  learn  that  our  nature  stands 
in  a  marked  contrast  to  the  divine  ;  that  the  immortal  nature 
which  is  within  us  is  of  a  mutable  kind,  susceptible  of  the 
most  searching  changes.  Ood,  who  is  immortal,  is  also 
changeless.  He  is  "  I  am  that  I  am,"  "  the  same  yester- 
day, to-day,  and  for  ever."  In  Him  "  is  no  variableness, 
neither  shadow  of  turning."  But  we,  who,  by  His  al- 
mighty power,  are  made  immortal  like  Himself,  unlike 
Him,  are  daily  changing.     We  are  susceptible  of  forms  and 

VOL.  I.-4. 


50  THE  MYSTERY  OF  MAN'S  BEING.  [Serb. 

characters  stamped  upon  us  from  without;  of  habits  and 
tempers  of  soul  fixed  by  energies  within.  We  grow,  we 
decay,  we  fluctuate,  we  become  what  we  were  not,  what 
we  were  we  lose  again  ;  and  yet  we  must  be  immortal. 
The  most  fearful  and  wonderful  of  mysteries  is  man.  To 
be  mortal,  and  to  be  mutable,  to  be  under  the  power  of 
change  and  death,  would  seem,  like  the  meeting  of  kindred 
imperfections,  to  be  consistent ;  that  we,  who  change  daily, 
should  change  at  last,  once  for  all,  from  life  to  death,  from 
being  to  annihilation,  would  seem  like  the  carrying  out  of 
a  natural  law ;  and  the  last  change  to  be  like  all  other 
changes,  save  only  in  that  it  is  the  greatest  and  the  last. 
But  to  be  ever  changing,  and  yet  to  be  immortal ;  that  after 
this  changeful  life  ended,  there  should  be  life  everlasting, 
or  the  worm  that  dieth  not — bespeaks  some  deep  counsel 
of  God,  some  high  destiny  of  man  ;  something  that  is  ever 
fulfilling,  ever  working  out  in  us,  whether  we  will  or  no. 

And  so,  indeed,  it  is.  We  are  here,  upon  our  trial,  for 
this  end.  We  are  sent  into  the  world,  that,  by  our  own 
will  and  choice,  we  should  determine  our  eternal  portion. 
This  is  the  moral  design  and  purpose  of  Him  that  made  us; 
and  therefore  He  made  us  as  we  are — mutable,  that  we 
may  take  our  mould  and  character ;  and  immortal,  that  we 
may  retain  it  for  ever. 

1.  Let  us  consider,  t^ien,  first,  that  our  immortal  being 
is  always  changing  for  good  or  evil,  always  becoming  better 
or  worse.  We  came  into  this  world  with  a  bias  of  evil  on 
our  nature  ;  but  in  holy  baptism  we  received  a  gift  which 
redressed  the  balance,  and  made  us  free  to  choose.  From 
that  day  we  have  stood  between  two  contending  powers. 
On  the  one  side,  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil ;  on  the 
other  side,  the  Spirit,  the  water,  and  the  blood  ;  the  powers 
of  darkness  and  of  light,  of  death  and  of  life  ;  the  kingdom 


IV.  THE  MYSTERY  OF  MAN'S  BEING. 


51 


of  Satan  and  the  Church  of  Christ  ;  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  the 
lust  of  the  eye,  and  the  pride  of  life, — the  gospel  of  salva- 
tion, and  the  holy  Sacraments  ;  all  these,  as  antagonist 
legions,  have  contended  for  us,  and  cast  in  turn  their  power 
and  their  hold  upon  us,  and  we  have  hung  in  the  poise  and 
vibrated  to  and  fro,  wavering  in  weakness  and  wilful- 
ness, a  spectacle  to  men  and  angels,  till,  for  good  or  ill, 
choice  or  time  has  determined  the  suspense.  And  this  is 
the  key  to  all  the  moral  phenomena  we  see  around  us.  The 
ten  thousand  various  and  conflicting  characters  of  men  are, 
each  several  one,  nothing  more  than  the  shape  and  attitude 
in  which  they  finally  issue  from  this  moral  conflict.  All 
men  are  good  or  evil,  just  as  they  incline  determinately  to 
this  or  that  side  of  this  moral  balance  ;  and  their  determined 
inclination  is  their  character.  All  our  life  long,  and  in 
every  stage  of  it,  this  process,  which  we  vaguely  call  the 
formation  of  character,  is  going  on.  Our  immortal  nature 
is  taking  its  stamp  and  color;  we  are  receiving  and  im- 
printing ineffaceable  lines  and  features.  As  the  will 
chooses,  so  the  man  is.  Our  will  isourself;  and  as  it  takes 
up  into  itself,  and,  as  it  were,  incorporates  with  itself,  the 
powers  and  the  bias  of  good  or  ill — such  we  become. 

2.  In  the  next  place,  consider  that  this  continual  change 
is  also  a  continual  approach  to,  or  departure  from  God. 
We  are  always  tending  to  God  or  from  God  ;  and  this  must 
be  by  the  force  of  moral  necessity.  We  are  always  grow- 
ing more  or  less  like  Him,  and  therefore  nearer  or  further 
from  Him.  On  these  two  lines  all  moral  beings  are  for  ever 
moving.  The  holy,  the  pure-hearted,  and  the  penitent, 
have  fellowship  with  angels,  and  walk  with  God,  and  God 
dwells  in  them  with  a  growing  nearness  day  by  day  ;  they 
are  ever  more  and  more  one  with  Him,  and  partake  more 
fully  of  the  Divine  nature,  and   are  filled  with  tiie  will  of 


52  THE  MYSTERY  OF  MAN'S  BEING.  [Serm. 

God  :  they  abide  in  God,  and  God  in  them  ;  they  are  one 
with  Christ,  and  Christ  with  them  :  they  are  taken  up  as 
it  were  into  the  company  of  heaven,  and,  by  the  ascent  of 
their  moral  being,  climb  upwards  to  the  throne  of  God. 
But  the  sinful,  the  impure,  and  the  impenitent,  have  their 
fellowship  with  fallen  angels,  and  their  moral  being  is  in 
warfare  against  God,  their  will  struggh'ng  and  clashing 
against  His  will ;  they  are  beset  round  about,  but  they  are 
not  dwelt  in  by  His  holy  presence  ;  the  gulf  between  them 
and  heaven  is  ever  widening  day  by  day :  they  are  ever 
departing  from  God,  and  ever  sinking  downward  to  the 
abyss ;  and  the  shadow  of  the  outer  darkness  already 
gathers  upon  their  inmost  soul.  Now  this  is  the  work  which 
rests  not,  day  or  night,  in  the  moral  being  of  mankind. 
Heaven  and  hell  are  but  the  ultimate  points  of  these  diverg- 
ing lines  on  which  all  are  ever  moving.  The  steady  rise 
and  fall  of  the  everlasting  lights  is  not  more  unerring.  It  is 
a  moral  movement,  measured  upon  the  boundaries  of  life 
and  death  ;  a  change  of  nature,  which,  in  the  moral  world, 
is  a  change  of  position  and  of  standing  before  God — it  brings 
us  nearer  or  casts  us  farther  from  Him. 

3.  And  this  leads  us  to  one  more  thought :  I  mean,  that 
such  as  we  become  in  this  life  by  the  moral  change  wrought 
in  our  immortal  nature,  such  we  shall  be  for  ever.  Our 
eternal  state  will  be  no  more  than  the  carrying  out  of  what 
we  are  now.  After  this  life  is  over,  there  will  be  no  new 
change — no  new  beginning — no  passing  the  eternal  gulf 
between  good  and  evil.  He  that  is  unjust  shall  be  unjust 
still ;  he  that  is  filthy  shall  be  filthy  still ;  he  that  is  righteous 
shall  be  righteous  still ;  and  he  that  is  holy  shall  be  holy 
still.  The  two  diverging  lines  shall  then  be  at  an  impas- 
sable distance ;  and  they  that  move  upon  them,  it  may  be, 
shall  move  onward  still,  into  a  brighter  glory,  or  a  darker 


IV.]  THE  MYSTERY  OF  MAN'S  BEING.  53 

gloom — lo  a  closer  ministry,  or  a  farther  banishment  from 
God.  For,  in  very  truth,  heaven  and  hell  are  not  more 
abodes  than  characters.  Abodes  they  are,  where  shall  be 
gathered  all  men  and  angels,  according  as  the  award  shall 
be  ;  but  that  which  makes  the  bliss  or  misery  of  each  is  not 
less  the  habit  which  has  here  been  wrought  into  the  moral 
being,  and  there,  for  good  or  evil,  is  made  absolute.  In 
this  life  the  holiest  will  and  the  most  saintly  spirit  is  clogged 
and  checked  by  the  swerving  and  burden  of  the  flesh.  All 
men  fall  short  of  their  high  purposes  ;  the  best  of  men  bear 
but  little  fruit ;  it  ripens  slowly  and  uncertainly,  and  often 
soon  decays:  but  the  will  which  has  here  struggled  to  per- 
fect itself  after  the  example  of  our  Redeemer,  shall  there  be 
perfected  by  His  mighty  working.  He  shall  fulfil  the  work. 
They  that  have  yearned  to  be  holy  shall  be  holy  without 
blemish  ;  they  that  have  wept  for  their  feeble  services  shall 
there  excel  in  strength — what  they  would  fain  have  been, 
they  shall  be.  Their  determination  of  will,  and  deliberate 
choice,  and  faithful  toiling,  shall  fix  the  character  of  their 
eternal  lot.  What  through  their  weakness  they  could  not 
here  attain,  He,  of  His  gracious  power,  shall  make  them  to 
be  for  ever. 

And  so,  likewise,  of  evil  men.  The  warning,  and  striv- 
ing, and  restraining  of  the  Holy  Ghost  shall  then  be  over ; 
and  all  that  in  this  life  kept  back  the  full  outbreak  of  a  sin- 
ful will  shall  be  taken  off.  The  whole  power  of  evil,  which 
lurks  pent  up  in  the  hearts  of  the  wicked,  shall  burst  forth 
into  a  flame.  The  very  air  they  breathe  must  kindle  it.  It 
may  be  they  shall  wonder  at  themselves,  at  the  mj'-stery  of 
iniquity  which  has  lain  harbored  within  them.  Their  con- 
dition in  life  so  far  repressed  and  masked  them  from 
themselves,  that  they  did  not  fully  know  what  they  truly 
were  :  just  as  we  often  see  men,  by  some  outward  change, 


54  THE  MYSTERY  OF  MAN'S  BEING.  [Serb 

put  forth  new  and  incredible  powers  of  evil,  which,  before 
they  were  tried,  no  man  could  believe  them  to  possess  ;  and 
as  we  all  know  how  the  example  of  others, — their  influence, 
their  presence,  a  glance  of  their  eye,  and  a  thousand  other 
outward  checks, — will  sustain  in  us  a  better  habit,  which, 
when  they  are  removed,  is  altogether  lost,  and  our  true  self 
rises  to  the  surface,  and  overspreads  the  whole  character, 
and  puts  out  its  full  ungovernable  strength.  Such,  beyond 
doubt,  shall  be  the  state  of  those  whose  will  has  here  con- 
flicted with  the  will  of  God.  There  all  check,  all  mitigation, 
all  repression,  shall  be  gone  ;  and  such  as  they  would  be 
now,  if  they  dared,  the}'  shall  be  then  for  ever. 

And  if  these  things  be  so,  with  how  much  awe  and  fear 
have  we  need  to  deal  with  ourselves  ! 

First  of  all,  we  must  needs  learn  to  keep  a  continual 
watch  over  our  hearts.  Every  change  that  passes  upon  us 
has  an  eternal  consequence  ;  there  is  something  ever  flowing 
from  it  into  eternity.  We  are  never  at  rest :  our  moral  life 
is  like  a  running  stream  ;  its  very  condition  is  change.  And 
these  changes  creep  on  us  by  such  an  insensible  approach, 
that  we  hardly  perceive  them  till  they  have  established 
themselves.  They  are  like  the  growth  of  our  stature,  or 
the  alteration  of  our  features — most  perceptible  in  the  whole 
after-eflfect,  but  beyond  the  subtlest  observation  to  detect  in 
the  manner  and  the  moment  of  their  changes.  So,  too,  our 
moral  dispositions  grow  upon  us.  We  know  them  by  retro- 
spect. They  took  their  first  spring  from  some  unperceived 
or  forgotten  incident,  they  penetrated  into  our  inmost  being, 
and  drew  it  to  their  own  shape.  To  pass  by  the  grosser 
forms  of  sin,  I  would  take,  for  example,  a  secret  dislike  of 
religion,  which  often  comes  from  a  soft,  self-pleasing  tem- 
per ;  or  pride,  springing  from  the  accidents  of  wealth  or 
rank ;  or  supercilious  contempt  of  the  Church's  warnings, 


rv.]  THE  MYSTERY  OF  MAN'S  BEING.  55 

arising  from  a  confidence  in  our  own  judgment  and  opinion. 
These,  being  free  from  all  grossness,  and  therefore  com- 
patible with  all  that  the  world  exacts  of  a  man,  wind 
themselves  imperceptibly  around  many  who  are  otherwise 
blameless  and  upright.  But,  though  free  from  all  grossness, 
they  are  faults  capable  of  great  intensity.  They  stifle  the 
very  life  of  faith,  wear  out  all  reverence,  excite  a  most 
restless  and  obstinate  dislike  of  holiness,  and  turn  the  whole 
man  aside  from  God  with  a  perfect  estrangement  of  heart. 
They  are  sins  more  deadly  for  the  very  reason  that  they 
are  spiritual.  They  dwell  in  that  depth  of  our  being  which 
is  most  akin  to  the  immortality  of  fallen  angels. 

Watch,  then,  over  the  changes  and  inclinations  of  your 
will ;  for  every  one  bears  upon  eternity.  Every  energy 
lays  in  another  touch  upon  your  deepening  character ;  every 
moment  fixes  its  colors  with  a  greater  steadfastness.  Re- 
member that  you  are  immortal;  realize  your  own  immor- 
tality. Remember  it  all  day  long,  in  all  places;  live  as 
men  whose  every  act  is  inefFaceably  recorded,  whose  every 
change  may  be  retained  for  ever. 

And,  again :  we  have  need  not  only  to  watch,  but  to 
keep  up  a  strong  habit  of  self-control.  How  it  is  that  every 
act  we  do  leaves  upon  us  its  impression,  we  know  not ;  but 
the  scars  and  the  seams  of  our  bodily  frame  may  warn  us 
of  the  havoc  sin  makes  in  our  unseen  nature.  The  current 
of  our  thoughts,  the  wanderings  of  our  imagination,  the 
tumult  of  our  passions,  the  flashes  of  our  temper,  all  the 
movements  and  energies  of  our  moral  being,  leave  some 
mark,  wither  some  springing  grace,  strengthen  some  strug- 
gling fault,  decide  some  doubtful  bias,  aggravate  some 
growing  proneness,  and  always  leave  us  other,  and  worse, 
than  we  were  before.  This  is  ever  going  on.  By  its  own 
continual  acting,  our  fearful  and  wonderful  inward  nature 


56  THE  MYSTERY  OF  MAN'S  BEING.  [Serb. 

IS  perpetually  fixing  its  own  character.  It  has  a  power  of 
self-determination,  which,  to  those  who  give  over  watching 
and  self-control,  becomes  soon  unconscious,  and  at  last 
involuntary.  How  carelessly  men  treat  themselves  !  They 
live  as  if  they  had  no  souls.  In  their  traffic  of  this  life,  they 
scheme  as  if  they  were  to  live  for  ever.  In  their  prepara- 
tion for  death,  they  trifle  as  if  there  were  no  life  beyond  the 
grave.  How  easy  is  all  self-control  at  the  first !  if  neglected, 
how  all  but  impossible  at  last !  To  most  men  it  must 
have  somewhat  of  sharpness.  To  the  unchastened  it  is 
galling  and  irksome :  but  what  is  this  to  the  remorseful 
looking  back  and  the  fearful  looking  onward  of  the  guilty 
spirit  waiting  for  the  day  of  doom  ! 

Watch,  therefore,  and  win  the  mastery  over  yourselves. 
Live  so  as  you  would  desire  to  live  for  ever.  Speak  and 
act  as  if  you  were  now  choosing  your  eternal  state.  Be 
such,  that,  if  your  moral  being  were  now  to  be  precipitated 
and  made  eternal,  your  portion  should  be  in  the  kingdom 
of  God.  And  commit  yourselves  to  the  great  movement  of 
His  mysterious  providence,  by  which  He  is  working  out 
the  change  and  transfiguration  of  His  saints.  The  vision 
which  the  prophet  saw  by  the  river  Chebar* — a  vision  of 
many  wheels  and  wondrous  creatures  of  God,  of  a  whirl- 
wind and  a  light  infolding  itself,  full  of  movements  seem- 
ingly opposed,  but  absolute  in  harmony — full  of  powers 
angelic  and  ministering — full  of  meaning  and  of  mystery; 
all  this  is  a  parable  of  the  Divine  presence  working  through 
the  complex  unity  of  His  Church.  On  His  Church,  as  upon 
the  potter's  wheel,  he  hath  laid  our  immortal  being  ;  and, 
as  it  revolves,  He  shapes  us  with  the  unerring  pressure  of 
His  hand,  and  the  vessel  of  wrath  rises  into  a  vessel  of 
glory.     It  is  by  His  holy  word  and  sacraments,  by  acts  of 

*  Kzek.  i.  4. 


IV.]  THE  MYSTERY  OF  MAN'S  BEING.  57 

homage  and  adoration,  by  a  life  of  obedience,  and  by  a 
wisely  tempered  discipline  of  chastisement  and  peace,  that 
He  wins  and  conforms  us  to  himself.  He  is  working  upon 
you.  That  in  you  which  shall  never  die  is  changing  daily, 
is  being  moulded  or  marred,  according  as  you  yield  to  or 
resist  the  working  of  His  word  and  Spirit — is  taking  the 
eternal  stamp  of  good  or  ill.  To  our  eyes  it  is  the  Church, 
to  our  faith  it  is  God  Himself,  that  is  changing  us  into  the 
likeness  of  His  Son. 


SERMON  V. 


WOKLDLY  AFFECTIONS  DESTRUCTIVE  OP  LOVE  TO  GOD. 


1  St.  John  ii.  15. 

"  Love  not  the  world,  neither  the  things  that  are  in  the  world.     If  any 

man  love  the  world,  the  love  of  the  Father  is  not  in  him." 

St.  John  here  tells  us  that  the  love  of  the  world  thrusts  the 
love  of  God  out  of  our  hearts.  Now  this  love  of  the  world 
means  a  love  either  of  things  which  are  actually  sinful,  or 
of  things  not  sinful  in  themselves,  but  hurtful  and  a  hin- 
drance to  the  love  of  God.  The  first  is  too  plain  to  need  a 
word.  A  love  of  sin  must  set  a  man  at  war  with  God  ;  his 
whole  inner  being  ranges  itself  in  array  against  the  Spirit 
of  holiness.  The  second  form  of  this  truth  is  somewhat 
less  clear,  and  far  less  thought  of;  and  we  will  therefore 
consider  it. 

There  are  things,  then,  in  the  world,  which,  although 
not  actually  sinful  in  themselves,  do  nevertheless  so  check 
the  love  of  God  in  us  as  to  stifle  and  destroy  it.  For 
instance,  it  is  lawful  for  us  to  possess  wealth  and  worldly 
substance  ;  we  may  serve  God  with  it,  and  consecrate  it  at 
His  altar ;  but  we  cannot  love  wealth  without  growing 
ostentatious,  or  soft,  or  careful,  or  narrow-hearted ;  "  for 


Serm.  v.]  worldly  affections,  etc.  59 

the  love  of  money  is  the  root  of  all  evil  ;  which  while  some 
coveted  after,  they  have  erred  from  the  faith,  and  pierced 
themselves  through  with  many  sorrows."*  So,  again,  with 
friends  and  what  is  called  society.  It  is  lawful  for  us  both 
to  have  and  to  love  friends,  both  to  enter  into  and  to  enjoy 
the  pure  happiness  of  living  among  them  ;  but  when  we 
begin  to  find  loneliness  irksome,  when  we  grow  fond  of 
being  much  in  society,  we  are  really  trying  to  forget  our- 
selves, and  to  get  rid  of  sadder  and  better  thoughts.  The 
habit  of  mind  which  is  formed  in  us  by  society  is  so  unlike 
that  in  which  we  speak  with  God  in  solitude,  that  it  seems 
to  wear  out  of  us  the  susceptibilit}''  of  deeper  and  higher 
energies.  Much  more  true  is  this  when  to  the  love  of  society 
is  added  a  fondness  for  light  pleasures,  or  a  love  of  power, 
or  a  craving  after  rank  and  dignities.  And  so,  once  more, 
lawful  as  it  is  to  be  thoughtful  and  circumspect  in  the 
ordering  of  our  life,  and  in  thankfully  enjoying  the  ease  and 
happiness  which  God  gives  us,  we  cannot  long  have  our 
thoughts  on  these  things  without  becoming  biassed  with  a 
sort  of  proneness  to  spare  and  to  indulge  ourselves. 

Now  it  is  against  such  dangers  as  these  that  St.  John 
warns  us.  They  will,  by  a  most  subtil  but  inevitable  effect, 
stifle  the  pure  and  single  love  of  our  hearts  towards  God  ; 
and  that  in  many  ways.  For,  in  the  first  place,  they  actu- 
ally turn  away  the  affections  of  the  heart  from  God.  He 
so  made  our  nature  for  Himself,  that  He  alone  is  the  lawful 
and  true  object  of  our  supreme  and  governing  love.  Other 
lawful  affections  are  not  contrariant  to  this,  but  contained 
in  it.  The  love  to  God  presides  over  them  all ;  orders,  and 
harmonises,  and  preserves  them  in  purity  and  health.  But 
when  they  are  loved  immoderately,  or  chiefly,  or  before 
God,  He  is  defrauded  of  so  much  of  His  own  inalienable 

*  1  Tim.  vi.  10. 


60  WORLDLY  AFFECTIONS  [Serm. 

homage.  They  become  to  us  as  olher  gods,  each  one  divert- 
ing our  heart  from  its  straight  and  single  direction  towards 
Him  alone.  It  is  of  our  affection  that  He  speaks  when  He 
calls  Himself  "  a  jealous  God."  Love  of  worldly  things, 
then,  plainly  defrauds  Him  of  our  loyalty,  and  checks,  if  it 
does  not  absolutely  thrust  our  love  to  Him  altogether  out  of 
our  hearts. 

And,  in  the  next  place,  it  impoverishes,  so  to  speak,  the 
whole  character  of  the  mind.  Even  the  religious  affections 
which  remain  undiverted  are  weakened  and  lowered  in 
their  quality.  They  are  like  the  thin  fruits  of  an  exhausted 
soil.  The  virtue  and  the  fatness  of  the  land  have  been 
drawn  off  and  distributed  into  so  many  channels,  that  what 
remains  is  cold  and  poor.  It  is  wonderful  how  characters 
of  great  original  earnestness  lose  their  intensity  by  entangle- 
ment in  the  lower  affections  of  the  world.  They  spend 
their  energy  on  objects  both  so  many  in  number,  and  so 
beneath  the  care  of  a  regenerate  spirit,  that  they  lose  all 
unity  of  heart  and  intention.  They  are  even  conscious  to 
themselves  that  this  is  going  on,  sapping  the  foundations  of 
their  moral  strength.  Surely  it  is  a  sign  of  a  poor  mind  to 
•be  greatly  moved  by  little  things ;  to  have  much  fondness 
for  the  most  harmless  of  this  world's  littlenesses  ;  to  love 
them  and  God,  as  it  were,  in  one  affection.  There  is  an 
evident  shallowness  about  such  minds,  a  want  of  power  to 
perceive  the  measures,  and  relations,  and  magnitude  of 
things.     Even  their  highest  energies  are  slack  and  feeble. 

Thus  much,  then,  may  be  said  generally.  We  will  now 
consider  somewhat  more  closely  the  particular  consequences 
of  this  love  of  the  world. 

1.  It  brings  a  dulness  over  the  whole  of  a  man's  soul. 
To  stand  apart  from  the  throng  of  earthly  things,  and  to  let 
them  hurry  by  as  they  will  and  whither  they  will,  is  the 


^'W' 


v.]  DESTRUCTIVE  OF  LOVE  TO  GOD.  61 

only  sure  way  to  calmness  and  clearness  in  the  spiritual  life. 
It  is  by  living  much  alone  with  God,  by  casting  off  the  bur- 
den of  things  not  needful  to  our  inner  life,  by  narrowing  our 
toils  and  our  wishes  to  the  necessities  of  our  actuallot,  that 
we  become  familiar  with  the  world  unseen.  Fasting,  and 
prayer,  and  a  spare  life,  and  plainness,  and  freedom  from 
the  cumbering  offices  and  possessions  of  the  world,  give  to 
the  eye  and  ear  of  the  soul  a  keen  and  piercing  sense.  And 
what  is  this  but  to  say,  that  by  such  a  discipline  the  powers 
of  our  regenerate  life  are  unfolded  and  enlarged  ?  But  this 
discipline  is  almost  impossible  to  the  man  that  moves  with 
the  stream  of  the  world  :  it  carries  him  away  against  his 
will.  The  oppressive  nearness  of  the  things  which  throng 
upon  him  from  without  defrauds  him  of  solitude  with  God. 
They  come  and  thrust  themselves  between  his  soul  and  the 
realities  unseen;  they  drop  like  a  veil  over  the  faint  outlines 
of  the  invisible  world,  and  hide  it  from  his  eyes.  They  ring 
too  loudly  in  his  ear,  and  throw  too  strong  an  attraction  over 
his  heart,  to  suffer  him  to  hear  and  understand.  And  the 
spiritual  powers  that  are  in  him  grow  inert  and  lose  their 
virtue  by  the  dulness  of  inaction.  This  is  most  clearly 
perceptible,  not  only  in  persons  of  a  predominately  worldly 
tone  of  mind,  but  in  those  who  have  been,  and  still  are  in 
some  measure,  religious  ;  and  none  know  it  belter  than  they. 
Perhaps  the  only  feeling  which  long  retains  its  keenness 
after  the  religious  affections  are  deadened,  is  the  fearful 
consciousness  that  they  can  no  longer  love  God  as  they 
loved  Him  once.  They  are  painfully  alive  to  a  sense  of  the 
eager  and  importunate  sympathy,  the  warm  and  clinging 
fondness  which  they  still  have  for  the  goings  on  of  their 
worldly  life,  and  the  stunned  and  senseless  heart  with 
which  they  turn  to  the  heart  of  God.  When  they  are  on 
their  knees  before  Him,  even  at  the  foot  of  the  altar,  and  in 


62  WORLDLY  AFFECTIONS  [Serm. 

the  very  act  of  prayer,  they  feel  in  a  strange  unnatural  pos- 
ture :  and  are  half  in  doubt  whether  it  were  not  better  to 
make  no  approach  to  Him  at  all,  than  to  draw  near  with  a 
heart  so  deaf  and  dull.  Now  to  this,  and,  alas,  often  far 
beyond  this,  many  blameless  and  good-hearted  people  are 
brought  at  last.  Much  trading,  or  much  toiling  for  ad- 
vancement, or  much  popularity,  or  much  intercourse  in  the 
usages  and  engagements  of  society,  or  the  giving  up  of 
much  time  to  the  refinements  of  a  soft  life, — these,  and  many 
like  snares,  steal  away  the  quick  powers  of  the  heart,  and 
leave  us  estranged  from  God.  And  this  is  the  secret  of  the 
oppressive  weariness  which  people  who  live  in  the  world 
feel  in  all  holy  duties.  The  acts  of  religion,  such  as  read- 
ing, thought,  contemplation  of  the  unseen,  prayer,  self- 
examination,  the  fasts,  feasts,  and  offices  of  the  Church,  first 
seem  to  lose  their  savor,  and  are  less  delighted  in  :  then 
they  grow  irksome,  and  are  consciously  avoided.  So  it  must 
be.  When  religion  ceases  to  be  a  delight,  it  becomes  a 
5'oke.  Serve  God  we  must,  either  in  freedom  or  in  bond- 
age :  if  not  for  love,  then  for  fear.  If  we  love  the  world, 
we  shall  only  fear  God.  We  shall  turn  to  our  profession  or 
our  calling,  or  to  society,  or  to  our  pleasures  in  life,  with 
speed  and  gladness,  but  to  God  with  constrained  prayers 
and  reluctant  confessions.  We  shall  go  to  Him  with  distant 
and  equivocating  hearts,  and  turn  from  Him  with  a  secret 
readiness  which  makes  us  tremble.  How  awfully  do  people 
deceive  themselves  in  this  matter  !  We  hear  them  saying, 
"  It  does  me  no  harm  to  go  into  the  world :  I  come  away, 
and  can  go  into  my  room  and  pray  as  usual."  Oh,  surest 
sign  of  a  heart  half  laid  asleep  !  You  are  not  aware  of  the 
change,  because  it  has  passed  upon  you.  Once,  in  days  of 
livelier  faith,  you  would  have  wept  over  the  indevoutness 
of  your  present  prayers,  and  joined  them  to  the  confession 


v.]  DESTRUCTIVE  OF  LOVE  TO  GOD.  S3 

of  your  other  backslidings  ;  but  now  your  heart  is  not  more 
earnest  than  your  prayers,  and  there  is  no  index  to  mark 
the  decline.  Even  they  that  lament  the  loss  of  their  former 
earnestness  do  not  half  know  the  real  measure  of  their  loss. 
The  growth  of  a  duller  feeling  has  the  power  of  masking 
itself.  Little  by  little  it  creeps  on,  marked  by  no  great 
changes,  much  as  the  dimness  of  the  natural  sight,  which 
must  reach  to  an  advanced  point  before  it  is  detected  to  be 
more  than  a  passing  film.  And  so  the  inward  affections  lose 
all  their  freshness,  and  the  pure  light  of  the  heart  is  over- 
cast, and  its  love  towards  God  grows  cold.  The  mind  is 
excited,  and  its  feelings  and  powers  drawn  into  life  and 
play  on  every  other  side  ;  but  in  the  region  which  lies 
towards  God  it  is  bleak  and  lonely  ;  and  the  faint  gleams  of 
heavenly  love,  which  must  be  fed  by  insights  of  the  world 
unseen,  flicker  and  decay  in  the  unwholesome  neighborhood 
of  worldly  affections. 

2.  I  will  notice  one  more  consequence.  As  we  grow 
to  be  attached  to  the  things  that  are  in  the  world,  there 
comes  over  us  what  I  may  call  a  vulnerableness  of  mind. 
We  lay  ourselves  open  on  just  so  many  sides  as  we  have 
objects  of  desire.  We  give  hostages  to  this  changeful 
world,  and  we  are  ever  either  losing  them,  or  trembling 
lest  they  be  wrested  from  us.  What  a  life  of  disap- 
pointment, and  bitterness,  and  aching  fear,  and  restless 
ancertainty,  is  the  life  of  the  ambitious,  or  covetous,  or 
self-indulgent!  Merchants,  trading  at  a  thousand  hazards j 
statesmen,  climbing  up  to  slippery  places ;  men  of  letters, 
catching  at  every  breath  of  fame  ;  men  of  the  world,  toiling 
to  sustain  a  great  appearance — how  anxious,  and  craving, 
how  sensitive,  and  impatient  of  an  equal  do  they  become  J 
How  saddened,  how  ill  at  ease,  how  preyed  upon  by  the 
fretting  of  unrest  j  and,  therefore,  how  far  from  the  calm, 


64  WORLDLY  AFFECTIONS  [Serb. 

inward  shining  of  the  love  of  God  !  Where  this  is,  there 
is  contentment  and  a  submissive  vi^ill,  and  a  glad  consent 
in  our  present  lot,  and  a  simplicity  which  sliields  itself  from 
the  throng  of  manifold  perturbations.  But  all  these  hallowed 
and  happy  tempers  are  frighted  away  by  the  wTithing  and 
the  moaning  of  a  worldly  spirit,  chafing  against  the  visita- 
tions which  invade  or  sever  its  earthly  attachments.  But  it 
is  not  only  in  this  form  that  the  mind  is  made  vulnerable  by 
a  love  of  the  world.  It  lays  itself  open  not  more  to  chas- 
tisements than  to  temptations  ;  it  gives  so  many  inlets  to 
the  suggestions  of  evil.  Every  earthly  fondness  is  an 
ambush  for  a  thousand  solicitations  of  the  wicked  one. 
Through  these  he  fills  men  with  pride,  vanity,  vain-glory 
— with  ambition  and  jealous  rivalry,  with  a  greedy  mind, 
with  murmuring  and  discontent,  with  unthankfulness  and 
mistrust  of  God.  Any  affection,  either  ill-directed  or  inor- 
dinate, passes  into  a  temptation.  It  is  a  lure  to  the  tempter 
-—a  signal  which  betrays  our  weaker  side  ;  and  as  the 
subtil  infection  of  evil  tempers  winds  itself  into  the  mind, 
the  Spirit  of  the  Dove  is  grieved  by  an  irritable  and  un- 
loving spirit.  The  very  affections  of  the  heart  recoil  sullenly 
into  themselves,  and  sometimes  even  turn  against  the  objects 
of  their  immoderate  fondness.  In  this  way  the  love  of  the 
world  becomes  a  cause  of  very  serious  deterioration  of  char- 
acter. It  soon  stifles  the  love  of  God  ;  and  when  that  is 
gone,  and  the  character  has  lost  its  unity,  particular  features 
unfold  themselves  into  a  fearful  prominence.  The  chief 
among  its  earthly  affections  becomes  thenceforth  its  ruling 
passion  ;  and  so  predominates  over  all  the  rest,  and  draws 
the  whole  mind  to  itself,  as  to  stamp  the  man  with  the 
character  of  a  besetting  sin.  And  this  is  what  we  mean 
when  we  call  one  man  purse-proud,  and  another  ostenta- 
tious, or  wordly-minded,  or  selfish,  and  the  like.     The  world 


v.]  DESTRUCTIVE  OF  LOVE  TO  GOD.  65 

has  eaten  its  way  into  his  soul,  and  "  the  love  of  the  Father 
is  not  in  him." 

Now,  if  this  be  so,  what  shall  we  do?  If  it  were  pos- 
sible for  us  to  begin  life  over  again,  and  to  lay  it  out  upon 
some  definite  and  carefully  adjusted  plan,  we  might  avoid 
the  entanglements  of  the  world.  But  almost  every  one  of 
us  already  finds  himself  fully  implicated  in  the  embarrass- 
ments of  life,  and  involved  in  a  multitude  of  inferior  attach- 
ments, before  he  is  well  awarcv  What,  then,  is  to  be  done? 
We  cannot  withdraw  ourselves.  One  has  wealth,  another 
a  family,  a  third  rank  and  influence,  another  a  large  busi- 
ness ;  and  all  these  bring  with  them  an  endless  variety  of 
duties  and  offices,  and  usages  of  custom  and  courtesy.  If 
a  man  is  to  break  through  all  these,  he  must  needs  go  out 
of  this  world.  All  this  is  very  true  :  but,  at  the  same  time, 
it  is  certain  that  every  one  of  us  might  reduce  his  life  to  a 
greater  simplicity.  In  every  position  in  life  there  is  a  great 
multitude  of  unnecessary  things  which  we  may  readily 
abandon :  if  we  were  to  examine  carefully  the  objects  on 
which  we  bestow  time  and  money,  thought  and  earnestness, 
we  should  find  many  that  are  purely  artificial.  Many  things 
we  do  only  because  others  have  done  them  before  us  ;  many 
by  mere  passive  imitation.  We  are  all  over-ready  to  com- 
bine many  characters,  or  pursuits,  or  offices  together ;  to 
make  heavier  our  own  burdens  ;  we  learn  to  form  exag- 
gerated judgments  of  the  worth  and  importance  of  things 
from  other  men  ;  and  all  this  gathers  into  a  worldliness  of 
character,  and  overspreads  our  mind,  fearfully  oppressing 
the  religious  life  within  us.  Now,  they  are  happiest  who 
are  most  discharged  from  contact  with  the  world  ;  who  can 
sit,  like  Mary,  at  the  Lord's  feet  without  distraction.  Most 
peaceful  life,  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  conflicts,  or 
changes,  or  possessions  of  this  world  :  to  have  enough,  and 


66  WORLDLY  AFFECTIONS  [Serm. 

somewhat  for  them  that  lack:  and  friends,  so  as  not  to  be 
desolate,  and  yet  without  carefulness  !  What  is  there  for 
them  to  do,  but  to  wait  on  God,  and  to  look  out  for  the  re- 
surrection ?  But  they  are  very  few  to  whom  this  scarce  and 
solitary  lot  is  given.  The  great  multitude  of  men  are  so 
interwoven  in  the  tangled  maze  of  relations  and  duties,  that 
they  must  take  the  burden  with  the  blessing ;  and  yet  even 
they  would  find  that  they  are  suffering  their  heart  to  be 
diverted  and  impoverished,  and  their  affections  to  be  dulled 
and  deteriorated,  by  entanglement  with  many  things  from 
which  a  little  boldness  and  a  little  decision  would  set  them 
free.  All  that  is  not  necessary  may  be  cast  off.  Our  un- 
wariness,  or  our  own  free  choice,  has  encumbered  us  with 
it;  and  it  is  in  our  own  hands  to  undo  it  again. 

And  as  for  all  the  necessary  cares  of  life,  they  need 
involve  us  in  no  dangers.  In  them,  if  we  be  true-hearted, 
we  are  safe.  The  inevitable  relations  of  our  earthly  lot 
are  the  appointments  and  declaration  of  God's  will  to  us. 
It  is  He  that  has  surrounded  us  with  them,  and  there  is  no 
danger  in  His  dispensations.  "  God  cannot  be  tempted 
with  evil,  neither  tempteth  He  any  man."  Besides,  even 
though  a  man  were  never  so  deeply  implicated  with  the 
relations  of  life,  there  is  no  need  that  he  should  suffer  them 
to  usurp  upon  him.  He  may  live  in  the  midst  of  them 
with  an  unsubdued  and  single  heart;  he  may  meet  them 
•  cheerfully,  fulfil  what  they  exact  of"  him,  but  do  them  no 
homage;  yield  to  them  no  mastery  over  his  inward  purpose. 
He  submits  to  them  as  to  a  rule  of  God's  ordaining; 
accomplishing  day  by  day  his  toil,  or  study,  or  professional 
offices ;  mixing,  too,  in  life,  taking  pleasure  in  its  pure 
happiness  and  fond  affections,  without  fear  or  doubting, 
knowing  that  he  is  where  God  has  willed  his  probation. 
But  the  deep  movements  of  his  heart  are  reserved  for  God 


v.]  DESTRUCTIVE  OF  LOVE  TO  GOD.  67 

alone.  All  other  emotions  are  partial,  affecting  only  a 
portion  of  his  spiritual  life  ;  but  this  extends  over  all,  and 
concentrates  all  upon  itself.  It  is  only  towards  God  that 
he  turns  with  a  perfect  unity  of  will.  And,  besides  that 
the  necessary  entanglements  of  our  lot  are  thus  in  them- 
selves safe  and  lawful,  God  in  His  mercy  shields  an  obedient 
mind  from  the  deteriorating  effects  of  inevitable  contact 
with  the  world.  When  He  leads  men  into  positions  of 
great  trial,  whether  by  wealth,  or  rank,  or  business.  He 
compensates  by  larger  gifts  of  grace.  The  spiritual  life  is 
perpetually  replenished  by  the  "  powers  of  the  world  to 
come;"  and  we  find  men  who  are  the  most  burdened, 
and  even  overborne,  by  the  thronging  toils  of  daily  life,  or 
lured,  and  solicited  by  the  splendors  of  the  world,  not  only 
holding  out  against  the  secularising  action  of  worldly  things, 
but  even  confirmed  and  elevated  to  a  higher  pitch  of 
devotion.  The  world  not  only  has  no  power  to  conform 
them  to  itself,  but  it  becomes  a  sort  of  counter-pressure, 
which  forces  them  to  take  shelter  in  a  secret  life  of  self- 
renouncement.  It  keeps  them  ever  on  the  watch,  by  a 
consciousness  that  to  relax  is  to  be  in  peril ;  and  therefore 
it  often  happens  that  none  are  more  dead  to  the  world  than 
they  that  have  it  around  them  in  the  largest  measure. 
They  have  learned  its  emptiness  and  its  bitterness,  and 
recoil  into  themselves,  as  into  a  silence  where  the  presence 
of  God  is  heard  :  they  have  had  many  struggles  with  it, 
and  gained  many  masteries,  and  suffered  many  wounds, 
and  they  have  become  estranged  from  it,  and  suspicious  of 
all  its  advances  and  allurements ;  and  have  learned  that, 
whensoever  they  have  leaned  upon  it,  an  edge  has  pierced 
them,  and  that  there  is  no  safety  but  in  God. 

From  all  this,  then,  it  is  plain  that  we  can  never  charge 
the  worldliness  of  our  hearts  upon  our  lot  in  life ;   for  our 


68  WORLDLY  AFFECTIONS,  ETC.  [Serm.  V. 

hindrances  are  either  made  by  entanglement  in  things 
which  are  unnecessary,  or,  if  in  necessary  things,  are 
made  through  some  inward  fault  of  our  own.  Let  us 
therefore  no  more  pretend  to  excuse  the  withholding  of 
our  hearts  from  God,  or  the  poverty  and  dulness  of  our 
affections,  on  the  plea  that  the  cares  and  duties  of  the 
world  keep  us  back  from  a  devoted  life.  Still  less  let  us 
persuade  ourselves,  that  the  temptations  to  which  we 
needlessly  expose  ourselves  are  inevitable  and  appointed 
of  God,  or  that  we  can  resist  their  action.  They  have 
already  overcome  us,  as  soon  as  we  suffer  them  to  pass 
within  the  precinct  of  our  daily  life.  We  can  still,  how- 
ever, with  great  ease,  in  due  season,  disentangle  ourselves 
from  all  needless  hindrances.  The  rest  will  be  no  let  to 
the  love  of  God.  AH  pure  loves  may  dwell  under  its 
shadow.  Only  we  must  not  suffer  them  to  shoot  above, 
and  to  overcast  it ;  for  the  love  of  God  will  not  grow  in  the 
shade  of  any  worldly  affection.  Above  all,  let  us  pray  of 
Him  to  shed  abroad  in  our  hearts  more  and  more  of  His 
love  ;  that  is,  a  fuller  and  deeper  sense  of  His  exceeding 
love  towards  us.  It  is  thus  He  draws  our  love  upward  to 
Himself.  "  We  love  Him  because  He  first  loved  us." 
The  consciousness  of  this  divine  love  comes  down  like  a 
flood  of  light  upon  our  darkened  hearts,  transfiguring  all 
pure  love  of  God's  creatures  with  exceeding  brightness, 
making  all  the  affections  of  our  spiritual  life  harmonious 
and  eternal. 


SERMON  VI. 


SALVATION  A  DIFFICULT  WORK. 


St.  Matthew  vii.  13,  14. 
"  Enter  ye  in  at  the  strait  gate  ;  for  wide  is  the  gate,  and  broad  is  the 
way,  that  leadeth  to  destruction,  and  many  there  be  which  go  in 
thereat :  because  strait  is  the  gate,  and  narrow  is  the  way,  which 
leadeth  unto  life,  and  few  there  be  that  find  it." 

In  these  words  our  Lord  uttered  a  startling  and  awful  truth. 
He  declared  that  they  who  make  forfeit  of  eternal  life  are 
many,  and  they  who  gain  it  few.  And  the  reason  He  af- 
firmed to  be  this :  that  the  way  of  destruction  is  broad,  and 
the  way  of  life  narrow.  By  these  words  He  designed  to 
express  some  great  difficulty  which  lies  in  the  way  of  sal- 
vation, some  barrier  which  few  surmount. 

Now  one  thing  is  most  certain  ;  I  mean,  that  this  diffi- 
culty is  not  of  God's  making.  He  "  would  have  all  men  to 
be  saved,  and  to  come  to  the  knowledge  of  the  truth."* 
"  I  have  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  the  wicked,  but  that 
the  wicked  turn  from  his  way  and  live."f  "  God  so  loved 
the  world,  that  He  gave  His  only-begotten  Son,  that  whoso- 

*  1  Tim.  ii.  4.  t  Eeek.  xxxiii.  11. 


X 


70  SALVATION  A  DIFFICULT  WORK.  [Serm. 

ever  believeth  in  Him  should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting 
life."*  It  is  not,  then,  any  difiiculty  ordained  of  God;  and 
it  is  plain,  therefore,  that  it  must  be  on  man's  part ;  that  it 
is  something  in  our  own  nature,  I  mean  a  moral  diflBculty. 
And  what  this  is,  we  will  go  on  to  examine. 

And,  first,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  the  diflBculty  will  be 
found  in  the  unwillingness  of  men  to  be  saved.  In  holy 
Scripture  this  is  broadly  charged  upon  mankind.  God  asks, 
as  pleading  with  His  people,  *' Why  will  ye  die?"  And 
our  Lord,  weeping  over  Jerusalem,  "How  often  would  I 
have  gathered  thy  children  together,  even  as  a  hen  gathereth 
her  chickens  under  her  wings,  and  ye  would  not !  "f  And 
again,  "Ye  will  not  come  unto  Me,  that  ye  may  have  life."J 
And  in  the  parable  of  the  marriage-feast,  a  type  of  eternal 
life,  "  They  all  with  one  consent  began  to  make  excuse." 
It  is  manifest  that  there  is  in  man's  nature  a  deep  and  set- 
tled unwillingness,  which  is  the  first  and  greatest  barrier  to 
his  salvation  ;  an  unwillingness  not  simply  to  be  saved,  that 
is,  to  be  made  everlastingly  blessed — this,  as  a  mere  end 
of  their  desires,  all  men  long  after — but  an  unwillingness  to 
be  saved  in  the  way  of  salvation  which  God  has  ordained. 
They  would  fain  enter  into  the  strait  gate,  if  they  could  do 
it  without  repenting,  or  denying  self,  or  crossing  their  own 
will,  or  changing  their  way  of  life.  If  they  might  live  on  to 
the  very  threshold  of  His  kingdom  with  an  unchastened 
heart,  and  then,  without  struggle,  shed  off  the  unmortified 
body  of  sin  and  death,  and  enter  new-born  into  His  joy  ;  if, 
after  a  life  of  self-indulgence,  they  could  inherit  eternal  bliss, 
and  so  draw  out  the  indolent,  self-pleasing  luxury  of  earth 
into  the  perfect  blessedness  of  heaven — then,  indeed,  there 
would  be  no  unwillingness ;  then  the  way  of  life  should  be 
broad  enough,  and  many  should  go  in  thereat ;  and  the  way 

•  St.  John  iii.  16.  t  St.  Matt,  xxiii.  37.  t  St.  John  v.  40. 


VI.]  SALVATION  A  DIFFICULT  WORK.  71 

of  destruction  narrow,  and  few  should  there  be  that  find  it. 
But  because  the  carnal  mind  is  enmity  against  God,  it  is 
the  severe  holiness  of  salvation  from  which  they  shrink. 
They  know  that  salvation  is,  the  being  saved  from  sin,  from 
its  guilt  and  from  its  soil,  from  the  power  with  which  it  rules 
over  us,  from  the  love  with  which  we  cling  to  it ;  in  a  word, 
it  is  the  healing  of  the  soul ;  the  cleansing  of  its  deadly  sick- 
ness ;  the  making  of  the  sinful  creature  a  holy  being.  From 
this  men  shrink  by  the  recoil  of  their  natural  will.  They 
too  clearly  see  that  it  is  from  themselves  that  they  must  be 
saved :  from  what  they  love  and  pamper  with  perpetual 
license  ;  that  they  must  renounce  what  they  are,  and 
become  what  they  are  not ;  that  they  must  absolutely  sub- 
mit their  will  to  be  changed  and  subdued  to  His  will; — 
and  they  are  not  prepared  to  put  so  great  a  yoke  upon 
themselves.  And,  besides  this,  the  thought  of  God's  awful 
and  searching  presence,  all  pure,  all  holy,  is  insufferable. 
They  feel  the  awful  contrast  of  their  own  sullied  spirits 
with  His  spotless  sanctity;  and  they  can  neither  endure  to 
forsake  the  sins  they  doat  on,  nor  dare  to  draw  nigh  Him 
without  repentance.  And  this  unwillingness,  which  all  men 
have  by  nature,  is  greatly  aggravated  by  the  habit  of  their 
lives.  Every  act  of  sin  excites  it.  Sinful  acts,  as  they 
multiply  into  habits,  and  combine  into  a  settled  character, 
turn  a  man's  heart  aside  from  God  with  a  most  steadfast 
alienation.  The  power  of  evil,  and  the  hold  of  the  world, 
grow  stronger  and  stronger  upon  such  a  man.  He  has 
more  to  break  through,  more  to  forsake,  more  to  mortify ; 
and  the  effort  becomes  daily  harder  and  less  hopeful.  It  is 
not  only  sins  of  the  grosser  sort,  and  habitual  famiharity 
with  evil,  that  determine  the  will  of  man  against  God.  An 
angry  or  a  sullen  temper,  jealousy,  fondness  for  trifles  and 


72  SALVATION  A  DIFFICULT  WORK.  [Serbj. 

worldly  vanity,  levity,  ambition,  and  the  hardness  of  heart 
which  is  seldom  far  from  a  soft,  self-pleasing  mind — all 
these  things  foster  a  secret  dislike  of  the  severities  of  per- 
sonal religion,  and  make  a  man  unwilling  to  enter  in  at  the 
strait  gate.  Nay,  even  the  pure-minded  have  need  to 
watch ;  for  the  world  is  ever  shedding  a  silent  influence 
upon  us  ;  it  deadens  the  keen  tact  of  conscience,  and  entan- 
gles us  in  unseen  toils,  and  draws  the  will  secretly  from 
God.  Many  who  are  pure  from  grosser  evil  may  forfeit 
eternal  life  through  a  slothful  indisposition  to  strive  against 
their  conscious  faults.  This,  then,  is  one  form  of  the  great 
moral  difBculty  which  must  be  overcome  by  all  who  would 
enter  into  life. 

2.  There  is  yet  another,  not  wholly  unlike  in  kind,  but 
more  subtil,  and  therefore  not  less  dangerous.  Let  us  sup- 
pose a  man  to  have  made  the  first  bold  and  successful 
struggle,  to  have  burst  through  the  bonds  and  trammels  of 
an  evil  or  a  worldly  life,  and  to  have  submitted  himself  to 
the  merciful  severity  of  God:  thenceforward  his  course  is 
a  perpetual  warfare  ;  as  before  against  God,  so  now  against 
himself;  and  that  because  the  reluctance  of  his  natural  will 
is  not  absolutel}^  changed,  but  only  held  in  check.  He  is 
willing  in  the  main  to  submit  to  repentance  and  self-denial, 
and  to  the  crossing  of  his  daily  choice  ;  or,  in  a  word,  to 
yield  himself  up  to  be  saved  in  the  awful  way  of  God's 
appointment.  But  though  willing  in  the  main  purpose  of 
his  mind,  and  in  the  general  resolution  of  his  heart,  he  is 
found  unwilling  in  the  particular  instances  which  make  up 
his  actual  salvation.  He  is  willino:  to  be  delivered  from  all 
sins,  until  he  is  tempted.  Each  particular  temtpation  has 
its  lure  and  its  spell  to  draw  him  to  a  new  consent.  His 
old  disease  returns  upon  him  in  detail.     There  is  an  uncer- 


VI.]  SALVATION  A  DIFFICULT  WORK.  73 

tainty,  a  weakness,  and  a  wavering  about  such  men, — a 
readiness  to  pass  impostures  upon  their  own  conscience : 
and  all  these  make  it  hard  for  them  to  win  eternal  life. 

The  reasons  of  this  are  many.  The  power  of  his  old 
habits  is  upon  him  still ;  and,  as  the  original  fault  of  man's 
nature  inclines  him  to  evil  generally,  so  they  give  a  man  a 
leaning  and  proneness  to  particular  sins.  His  will  is 
weaker  on  that  side  where  it  has  been  wont  to  yield  ;  he  is 
more  vulnerable,  more  liable  to  be  tempted, — as  a  constitu- 
tional liability  to  any  sickness  makes  a  man  more  readily 
take  infection ;  for  his  former  habits  have  laid  up  a  provis- 
ion for  future  falls.  They  leave  in  him  something  upon 
which  temptation  may  kindle  ;  in  the  words  of  a  wise  spir- 
itual guide  and  bishop  of  the  Church,  they  are  like  a  taper 
newly  quenched,  which  starts  again  into  a  flame  at  the  first 
approaches  of  a  light.  Most  unlike  to  Him  in  whom  the 
prince  of  this  world,  when  he  came,  had  nothing  on  which 
to  fasten.  On  Him  temptations  fell  harmless,  as  sparks  are 
quenched  upon  the  surface  of  a  pure  fountain. 

Once  more ;  in  such  a  man  as  we  speak  of,  the  new 
strength  of  better  habits  is  not  as  yet  confirmed.  And  here 
again  the  power  of  past  evil  reappears.  It  not  only  claims 
a  dominion  of  its  own,  but  it  mars  the  beginnings  of  a  holier 
character.  It  perpetually  breaks  up  the  first  foundations, 
unsettling  them  as  soon  as  they  are  laid,  baffling  our  toil, 
and  mocking  us  by  continual  defeats.  No  man  knoweth, 
but  God  only,  what  is  the  hurt  inflicted  upon  man's  spirit- 
ual nature  by  familiar  consent  to  evil ;  what  is  the  deterio- 
ration of  the  moral  being  in  the  scale  of  His  redeemed 
creatures.  It  scathes  and  deadens  the  spiritual  sense,  and 
leaves  fearful  scars  and  seams  on  our  inmost  soul.  It 
seems  to  make  us  less  susceptible  of  holiness  :  for  by  a 
course  of  disobedience  not  only  is  the  antagonist  resistance 


^4  SALVATION  A  DIFFICULT  WORK.  [Serm. 

of  the  mind  increased,  but  even  its  passive  powers  are  dimin- 
ished. As,  for  instance,  what  is  it  that  hinders  the  deeper 
sorrow  of  repentance,  but  a  former  habit  of  treating  sin  with 
levity  ?  What  makes  devotion  well  nigh  impossible,  but  a 
past  habit  of  living  without  prayer  ?  What  makes  it  so 
hard  to  sustain  a  habitual  consciousness  of  God's  presence, 
but  an  early  habit  of  living  without  that  consciousness  ? 
There  has  come  over  the  spiritual  nature  an  inaptness  and 
often  an  antipathy.  As  in  some  men  the  keenness  of  the 
eye  and  ear  is  blunted,  and  the  very  first  laws  of  harmony 
and  beauty  become  unintelligible,  and  even  irksome  ;  so  is 
it  with  holiness,  without  which  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord 
We  squander  and  abuse  the  mysterious  powers  of  our  spir- 
itual being,  and  daily  create  around  us  new  obstructions  in 
the  way  of  our  salvation,  narrowing  the  path  and  straitening 
the  gate  by  which  alone  we  can  enter  into  life. 

But  hitherto  I  have  seemed  to  speak  only  of  those  who, 
after  an  evil  or  worldly  life,  turn  to  repentance.  And  yet 
this  warning  is  for  all.  It  was  spoken  absolutely.  To  all 
mankind,  as  fallen  men,  the  way  of  life  is  not  more  blessed 
than  it  is  arduous.  And  that  for  this  reason,  because  "  flesh 
and  blood  cannot  inherit  the  kingdom  of  God  ;  neither  doth 
corruption  inherit  incorruption."*  There  must  pass  on  each 
a  deep  and  searching  change.  And  this  change,  though  it 
be  wrought  in  us  of  God,  is  wrought  through  our  striving. 
It  is  no  easy  task  to  gird  up  the  energies  of  our  moral  na- 
ture to  a  perpetual  struggle.  The  most  watchful  feels  as 
one  that  strives  against  the  half-conscious  drowsiness  of  an 
oppressive  poison  ;  the  purest,  as  he  that  leaves  upon  driven 
snow  a  dark  and  sullying  touch  ;  the  most  aspiring,  as  a 
man  that  aims  his  shafts  from  a  strained  and  slackened 
bow  ;  the  most  hopeful  of  eternal  life,  as  one  that  toils  for  a 

•  1  Cor.  XV.  50. 


VI.]  SALVATION  A  DIFFICULT  WORK.  75 

far  shore  in  a  rolling  and  stormy  sea.     It  is  a  hard  thing  to 
be  a  Christian.      It  is    a   hard  thing    to   keep  ourselves 
unspotted  from  the  world.     It  is  a  hard  thing  to  force  our 
way,  making  an  armed  retreat  into  a  position  of  safety  ;  for 
sin,  that  great  and  manifold  mystery  of  ill,  whose  root  no 
man  hath   ever  found,  whose  goings  forth  were  before  the 
world  was  made,  whose  legions  are  unseen,  hovers  around 
with  a  terrible   strength,  and   still  more  terrible  craft.     It 
ever  hangs  upon  our  skirts,  and  harasses  our  way  to  life  ;  it 
waits  through   every  day,  and  watches  in   every  hour;  it 
besets  all  our  paths,  and  lurks  beside  all  our  duties  ;  it  min- 
gles in  our  toils,  and  hides  in  our  secret  chamber,  and  masks 
itself  under  our  religion,  and  follows  us  to  the  altar  of  God. 
Through  all  this  we  have  to  win  our  way  to  life.     "  We 
wrestle  not  with  flesh  and  blood" — for  then  we  might  endure 
it,  beholding  our  enemy  and  grappling  with  him  face  to 
face,  — "  but   we   wrestle    against   principalities,    against 
powers,  against  the  rulers   of  the  darkness  of  this  world, 
against    spiritual    wickedness    in    high   places."*      These 
throng  the  way  to  life,  and  cast  down  the  unwary,  and  over- 
bear the  wavering  soul,  and  mar  the  beginnings  of  repent- 
ance :  therefore  are  they  who  find  eternal  life  but  few. 

Such,  then,  is  the  warning  of  our  Lord.  And  such  are 
some  of  the  many  difficulties  which  beset  our  way  to 
heaven.  We  are  bid  to  strive.  Salvation  is  not  the  by- 
play of  our  idle  hours,  when  the  mind  is  wearied  with 
overtoiling  for  this  life,  or  cloyed  with  the  oppressive 
customs  of  the  world.  It  demands  a  manly  and  a  resolute 
heart,  or  that  still  strength  which  faith  gives  to  the  most 
feminine  and  gentle  spirit. 

Beware,  then,  of  an  eas^s  acquiescing  temper,  which 
lulls  you  to  be  secure.     What  is  meant  by  "  wide  is  the 

*  Ephes.  vi.  12. 


76  SALVATION  A  DIFFICULT  WORK.  [Serm. 

gate  and  broad  is  the  way  that  leadeth  to  destruction,"  but 
that  a  man  needs  only  to  follow  his  own  will ;  only  to  let 
his  thoughts,  words,  and  lusts  wander  and  run  on  un- 
checked, and  he  is  in  as  fair  a  way  to  perish,  as  a  ship 
without  a  helm  in  a  flood  where  there  is  but  one  haven  and 
a  thousand  shoals  ?  By  a  natural  law  man  leans  towards 
destruction.  It  may  be  called  the  gravitation  of  a  fallen 
being.  Let  a  man  only  be  at  ease  in  himself,  satisfied 
with  what  he  is,  and  consent  to  the  usurping  customs  of  the 
world,  drawing  in  the  unwholesome  breath  of  refined  evil, 
and  letting  his  moral  inclination  run  its  natural  course, 
without  check  or  stay,  and  he  will  most  surely  tide  onward, 
with  an  easy  and  gentle  motion,  down  the  broad  current 
of  eternal  death.  Such  a  man  is  seldom  strongly  tempted. 
The  less  marked  solicitations  of  the  tempter  are  enough. 
The  suggestion  of  a  great  sin  might  rouse  his  conscience, 
and  scare  him  from  the  toils.  We  may  take  this,  then,  as 
a  most  safe  rule,  that  a  feeling  of  security  is  a  warning  to 
be  suspicious,  and  that  our  safety  is  to  feel  the  stretch  and 
the  energy  of  a  continual  strife. 

But  there  is  also  another  thing  to  remember.  Our 
blessed  Lord  did  not  give  this  warning  to  discourage,  but 
to  rouse  us.  He  well  knew  that  men  always  despised 
things  easy  to  be  done ;  that  they  think  what  may  be  done 
easily  may  be  done  at  any  time  ;  and  that  what  may  be 
done  by  a  little  effort  is  often  never  done  at  all.  And  men 
are  ever  ready  to  believe  that  it  is  no  hard  task  to  enter 
into  life;  and  this,  as  knowing  neither  the  holiness  of  God's 
kingdom,  nor  the  sin  that  is  in  themselves.  He  therefore 
told  them  the  naked  truth,  startling,  awful,  and  unpalatable 
as  it  must  ever  be;  and  by  this  He  tried  the  reality  and 
strength  of  their  intentions.  Let  no  man,  therefore,  go 
away  cast  down.     A  consciousness  of  difficulty  is  to  the 


VI  ]  SALVATION  A  DIFFICULT  WORK.  77 

true  of  heart  a  spur  to  efforts,  and  therefore  a  pledge  of 
success  at  last.  Only  resolve  to  win  eternal  life,  and  He 
will  accept  your  resolution  as  a  pure  offering.  Measure 
your  daily  life  upon  your  resolution  ;  shun  all  things  that  can 
betray  your  stedfastness  ;  cleave  to  all  that  may  strengthen 
or  confirm  your  vow.  Only  be  true  to  yourselves  ;  and  all 
help  and  all  succor  shall  be  given  you.  Twelve  legions 
of  angels  shall  wrestle  for  you,  rather  than  that  one  faithful 
spirit  perish  from  the  way  of  life.  To  this  end  you  were 
born,  and  for  this  cause  came  you  into  the  world,  that  you 
should  inherit  the  kingdom  of  God.  Lose  this,  and  all  is 
lost.  "For  what  shall  it  profit  a  man,  if  he  shall  gain  the 
whole  world,  and  lose  his  own  soul ;  or  what  shall  a  man 
give  in  exchange  for  his  soul  ?  " 


SERMON  VII. 


A  SEVERE  LIFE  NECESSARY  FOR  CHRIST'S  FOLLOWERS. 


St.  Luke  ix.  23. 

"  If  any  man  will  come  after  me,  let  him  deny  himself,  and  take  up 

his  cross  daily,  and  follow  me." 

We  read  in  the  Gospels  both  of  St.  Matthew  and  of  St. 
Mark,  that  this  startling  precept  was  given  at  the  time 
when  Peter  had  been  sternly  rebuked  for  his  misguided 
affection  for  his  Lord.  It  was  at  the  same  time,  when  in 
the  foresight  of  His  coming  agony,  the  Lord  Jesus  began 
to  teach  them  what  things  the  Son  of  man  should  suffer; 
and  Peter,  in  the  forwardness  and  blindness  of  his  heart, 
*'  took  Him,  and  began  to  rebuke  Him,  saying,  Be  it  far 
from  Thee,  Lord  :  this  shall  not  be  unto  Thee.  But  He 
turned,  and  said  unto  Peter,  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan  : 
thou  art  an  offence  unto  me  :  for  thou  savourest  not  the 
things  that  be  of  God,  but  those  that  be  of  men."  And 
further,  to  show  the  breadth  of  this  great  law  of  suffering, 
and  how  that  the  law  which  reached  even  unto  Him  bound 
also  every  living  soul  that  followed  Him,  He  said  unto 
them  all,  "  If  any  man  will  come  after  me,  let  him  deny 
himself,  and   take   up  his  cross   daily,   and   follow  me." 


SerM.  VII.]  A  SEVERE  LIFE  NECESSARY,  ETC.  79 

And  thus,  by  words  between  a  proverb  and  a  prophecy, 
He   foreshowed   them  both   His  own  lot  and  theirs  :    He 
taught  them  the  mysterious  order  of  His  unseen  kingdom  ; 
how  that  He  and  His  must  all  alike  suffer,  all  deny  self, 
all  bear  the  cross.     Again  and  again,  through  His  whole 
ministry,  He  threw  out  this  strange  lure  to  win  them  more 
closely   to  Himself.     It  was  so  He  strengthened  His  fol- 
lowers against   the  rending  asunder  of  households  and  of 
kindred ;  it  was  so  He  tempered  the  over-ready  eagerness 
of  some  that  would  follow  Him  before  they  had  reckoned 
up  the  cost ;   it  was  so  He  sought  to  bind  the  rich  young 
man  for  ever  to  His  service,  by  one  more,  and  that  the  last 
and  strongest  link.     And  the   same  deep  truth  we  trace 
throughout  the  whole  texture   of  His  words  and   deeds : 
His  own  visible  self-denial,  and  the  cross  which  He  daily 
bore,  alike  bespoke  the  lot  of  all  that  would  be  His.     And 
what  His  life  ever  testified.  He   here  expressly  declared. 
And  His  words  are  both  a  bidding  and  a  warning;   theyl 
bid  us  that  we  come   after  Him ;  they  warn   us   that  wej 
must  deny  ourselves ;  and  they  teach  us  that  self-denial  isj 
the  absolute  condition  of  His  service  :  or,  in  other  words, 
that  without  self-denial  no  man  can  be  a  faithful  Christian. 
And    how  universally  this    great    condition    has    been 
fulfilled   in  all  His  true  servants,  is  shown   by  the  whole 
history  of  the  Church.     The  apostles,  martyrs,  confessors, 
bear  witness  with  one  voice  to  the  same  mystery  of  suffer- 
ing.    They  testify  that  the  badges  of  Christ's  people  are 
sufferings  for  Christ's  sake  ;  and  even  they  to  whom  it  was 
given  to  believe  in  Christ,  but  not  to  suffer  for  Him,  the 
fellowship  of  all  saints,  conspire  in  the  same  awful  testi- 
mony.    They  have  each  one  borne  the  cross — each  in  his 
own  unnoticed  way ;  even  though  the  nighest  to  them,  it 
may   be,   kne\y  it   not :   in    some   hidden   grief,  in    some 


80  A  SEVERE  LIFE  NECESSARY  [Serm 

\  -  despised  affliction,  in  some  thing  they  burned  to  utter,  but 
never  dared  to  speak.  Though  the  form  of  their  affliction 
was  invisible,  yet  they  visibly  bore  the  cross;  and  in  bear- 
ing it,  they  showed  whose  steps  they  followed.  The 
character  which  was  upon  them  was  a  legible  countersign 
of  their  claim  to  be  His  servants.  They  had  about  them 
an  integrity  and  completeness  of  the  moral  life,  a  fulness 
and  distinctness  of  character;  standing  out  from  the  world 
around,  and  yet  dwelling  in  it ;  separate,  and  yet  mingled 
in  it ;  in  contact  with  it,  but  unsullied  by  its  touch;  external 
to  it,  but  guiding  and  checking  its  course;  moving  it,  but 
not  borne  along  with  it ;  though  in  most  things  like  other 
men,  and  to  most  eyes  undistinguishable  among  the  throng 
which  gathers  in  king's  palaces,  or  learned  schools,  or  busy 
marts,  yet  to  eyes  whose  sight  is  purged  bearing  most 
visible  tokens  of  their  Master's  calling.  We  see  in  them 
the  mind  of  Christ ;  the  high  dignity  of  an  austere  calm- 
"ness  ;  a  greatness  of  soul  which  the  world's  busy  fretfulness 
icould  not  even  ruffle  ;  a  voluntary  disentanglement  from  all 
the  world  counts  dearest ;  a  habitual  self-mastery  in  fore- 
going honors,  gains,  and  happiness,  in  choosing  hardness, 
contempt,  and  isolation.  By  these  the  saints  of  all  ages 
bear  their  witness  to  this  great  law  of  Christ's  regenerate 
kingdom,  that  without  self-denial  no  man  can  serve  Him. 

But  we  must  go  farther.  Our  Lord  does  not  only  tell 
us  that  this  shall  be  so,  but  that  it  must  be  so.  •'  Whosoever 
doth  not  bear  his  cross  and  come  after  me,  cannot  be  my 
disciple."  It  is  not  so  much  a  general  fact  in  the  history 
of  Christendom,  as  an  universal  law  working  out  its  own 
fulfilment.  It  is  no  accidental  dispensation  or  arbitrary 
condition  imposed  upon  the  Church  by  the  will  of  Him  we 
serve,  but  the  inevitable  law  of  a  deep  moral  necessity ; 
for  it  is  not  more  certain  that  without  holiness  no  man  can 


Vn.]  FOR  CHRIST'S  FOLLOWERS.  81 

serve  Him,  than  that  without  self-denial  no  man  can  be 
holy.  And  so  it  must  be  from  the  nature  of  mankind,  and 
the  nature  of  Christ's  service.  For  what  is  man's  nature 
but  sinful  flesh?  and  what  His  service  but  a  sharp  correc- 
tive? What  is  man's  sin  but  the  domination  of  self-will? 
and  what  is  the  corrective  but  its  abasement  and  abolition? 
What  is  each  several  characteristic  form  of  sin,  but  self- 
will  lusting  on  every  side,  and  predominantly  in  some  one 
direction?  and  what  is  our  enfranchisement  from  sin,  but 
the  quelling  of  sinful  lusts  by  Christ's  Spirit  working  in  us 
through  self-denial  ?  No  two  powers  can  be  more  antago- 
nist than  man's  nature  and  Christ's  service;  and  the  struggle 
issues,  as  either  power  prevails,  in  apostacy  or  in  self- 
denial. 

We  will  take  one  or  two  particular  proofs  of  this  moral 
necessity. 

1.  In  the  first  place :  without  crossmg  and  denying 
ourselves,  there  can  be  no  purifying  of  the  moral  habits. 
Without  true  compunction  and  a  tender  conscience,  purity 
of  heart,  and  the  energy  of  a  devout  mind  set  free  from  the 
thraldom  of  evil,  no  man  can  have  fellowship  with  Christ ; 
and  no  man  can  have  these  without  self-denial.  There 
hangs  between  Him  and  the  soul  which  is  sullied  by  per- 
mitted lusts  a  dark  and  impenetrable  veil.  No  holy  lights 
stream  through  upon  it ;  no  softening  influence  pierces  the 
inner  gloom  ;  no  invitations  from  above  draw  up  the  sullen 
mind  towards  heaven ;  no  yearnings  of  heart  stretch  forth 
iheir  hands  unto  God  ;  the  whole  inmost  soul  is  bent  into  a 
challenging  array,  or  chilled  by  cold  estrangement  from 
God's  holy  presence.  And  so  it  must  be  in  every  man 
while  his  moral  habits  are  not  purified  ;  and,  though  there 
may  be  many  shades,  some  of  a  more  and  some  a  less  pro- 
nounced and  settled  character,  yet  there  are,  after  all,  only 

VOL.  I. -6. 


82  A  SEVERE  LIFE  NECESSARY  [Serb, 

two  main  classes.  A  man  must_  either^  deny ^r  indulge 
himself.  There  is  no  middle  or  indifferent  state — for  the 
not  denying  is  indulgence ;  it  is  throwing  the  reins  on  the 
neck  of  his  lusts,  though  he  may  lack  boldness  to  set  the 
spur ;  it  is  rather  the  want  of  self-denial,  than  any  conscious 
and  deliberate  purpose  of  sinning,  that  solves  the  case  of 
most  habitual  sinners.  Positive  sins  gather  and  fester  in 
the  untended  moral  habit  before  men  are  aware  that  they 
•have  so  much  as  gained  an  entrance.  It  may  be,  they  never 
sought  the  sin  ;  they  were  not  forward  in  the  temptation ; 
they  did  not  invite  it;  they  were  minded  not  to  indulge  it; 
[  it  may  be,  they  were  somewhat  troubled  at  it — only  they 
did  not  deny  it ;  and  so  the  plague  fastened  upon  them. 
Out  of  these  beginnings  issue  oftentimes  the  most  settled 
and  deliberate  forms  of  vice,  which  either  so  blind  men's 
hearts  that  they  cannot  trace  Christ's  footsteps,  or  utterly 
turn  them  back  from  following  Him — sometimes  for  ever. 

2.  And  so,  again,  even  with  those  who  have  for  a  while 
follovt'ed  His  call,  how  often  do  we  see  the  fairest  promise 
of  a  high  and  elevated  life  marred  for  want  of  constancy  I 
They  had  no  endurance,  because  they  had  no  self-denial. 
What  is  more  common  than  to  see  men  whose  earlier  years 
have  been  shielded  from  the  grosser  contact  of  evil,  or 
whose  manhood  has  been,  for  a  season,  overcast  by  some 
heavy  chastening — such  men  outwardly  consistent,  it  may 
be,  for  years,  and  yet  at  last  shrinking  from  hardness,  and 
weary  of  His  correction?  They  endure  for  a  while  ;  but 
in  time  of  temptation,  by  change  of  lot,  or  by  some  new 
condition  of  life,  such  as  wealth  or  elevation,  or  by  some 
sifting  trial,  fall  away.  And  what  is  it  but  the  lack  of  self- 
denial  which  brings  out  such  moral  anomalies  as  we  daily 
see  ?  As,  for  instance,  men  of  excited  sensibility,  with 
{hearts  impenetrably  hard  ;   or  with  benevolent  impulses, 


VII  ]  FOR  CIIRIsrs  FOLLOWERS.  83 

but  merciless  through  self-indulgence  ;  or  wilh  devout 
minds,  but  soft,  and  without  fibre  enough  to  wrestle  for 
the  truth  ;  or  full  of  good  intentions,  but  so  flexible  as  to 
accomplish  nothing,  so  languid  as  to  hold  fast  by  nothing. 
A  self-sparing  temper  will  make  a  man  not  only  an  utter 
contradiction  to  his  Lord,  but  even  to  himself.  Only  let 
difficulties  gather  and  hedge  him  in,  and,  though  honest  in 
the  feeble  longings  of  his  heart,  he  will  compromise  himself 
with  petty  equivocations,  or  crooked  dealing,  just  within  the 
verge  of  self-evident  duplicity;  or  he  will  explain  away  his 
meaning,  and  wear  down  the  severe  truth  of  his  principles, 
and  come  out  of  the  trial  no  better  than  a  worse  man  would 
issue  from  a  like  temptation. 

3.  And  still  farther  ;  without  self-denial  there  can  be  no 
real  cleaving  of  the  moral  nature  to  the  will  of  God.  I  say 
real,  to  distinguish  between  the  passive  and  seeming  attach- 
ment of  most  baptized  men,  and  the  conscious,  energetic 
grasp  of  will  by  which  Christ's  true  disciples  cleave  to  their 
Master's  service.  The  faith  of  many  is  no  more  than  a 
torpid,  immature  assent  to  things  they  cannot  deny.  There 
is  no  act  of  the  will  in  it.  They  pay  a  cheap  tribute  in  the 
understanding,  to  buy  off*  the  obedience  of  their  hearts. 
They  know  the  Gospel  to  be  logically  true;  but  their  moral 
nature  has  at  the  most  a  dull,  flitting  sympathy  with  the 
world  unse&n.  They  rather  gaze  after  Christ  than  followi^i^ 
Him.  And  so  they  linger  on  through  life,  dreaming  of  self- 
denial  :  and  are  all  the  harder  to  be  roused,  because  they 
are  so  invincibly  persuaded  that  their  dream  is  a  reality. 
And  yet,  after  all,  they  have  never  once  stirred  themselves 
to  so  great  an  effort  as  to  make  a  choice  between  Christ's 
service  with  its  cross,  and  a  smooth  easy  path  with  no 
crown  in  heaven.  They  have  but  listened  without  gain- 
saying;  or  lived   without  great   swervings   from   the   first 


1 


h^ 


84  A  SEVERE  LIFE  NECESSARY  [Seks. 

principles  of  right.  It  may  be,  they  have  looked  on  while 
the  Church  celebrates  her  mysteries  ;  they  have  been 
assessors  at  her  worship,  and  spectators  at  her  fasts  and 
festivals  :  at  the  most,  they  have  gazed  upon  the  visible 
form  of  her  rites  and  sacraments.  But  all  this  is  external 
to  the  will.  They  have  chosen  nothing,  and  grasped  no- 
thing. They  have  been  encompassed  by  a  system,  but  not 
incorporated  with  it. 

For  these,  and  for  many  more  like  reasons,  it  is  plain 
that,  if  any  man  will  be  a  true  follower  of  his  Lord,  and 
live  after  the  Exemplar  to  which  in  his  regeneration  he 
was  pledged,  he  must  needs  put  this  yoke  upon  himself. 
'•  The  disciple  is  not  above  his  Master,"  The  whole 
earthly  life  of  Him  we  follow ;  the  whole  history  of  His 
Church,  thick-set  with  the  shining  lights  of  His  true  servants  ; 
the  holiness  of  our  calling;  the  sin  that  dwells  within  us, — 
all  alike  declare  that  we  must  make  choice  between  self- 
indulgence  and  His  service.  It  is  self-evident,  and  inevi- 
table ;  and  by  this  law  our  probation  is  brought  to  a  simple 
but  fearful  issue.  Either  we  are  now,  at  this  time,  denying 
ourselves,  or  we  are  not  Christ's  disciples  in  that  deep 
inward  sense  which  all  but  shuts  out  the  many  who  by  bap- 
tism are  made  His.  And  that  we  may  ascertain  whether 
it  be  so  with  us,  we  have  need  to  ask  ; 
,  First,  in  what  do  we  deny  ourselves  ?  It  wguld  be  very 
hard  for  most  men  to  find  out  what  one  thing,  in  all  the  man- 
ifold actings  of  their  daily  life,  they  either  do  or  leave 
undone  simply  for  Christ's  sake.  The  great  number  of 
men  live  lives  of  mere  self-pleasing.  They  take  the  full 
range  of  all  things  not  absolutely  forbidden.  They  live 
ever  on  the  very  verge  of  license,  and  within  a  hair's-breadth 
of  excess.  Such,  for  instance,  as  live  at  ease,  with  large 
revenues,  and  a  full  fare,  and  costly  furniture,  and  a  retinue 


VIL]  FOR  CHRIST'S  FOLLOWERS.  85 

of  friends — filling  a  large  field  in  the  world's  eye.  To  such 
men  the  burden  and  the  sharpness  of  the  cross  are  strange, 
uneasy  thoughts.  They  feel  the  antipathy  of  their  whole 
inner  being  to  the  severe  happiness  of  a  Christian  life. 
They  would  fain  break  through  the  heavy  bonds  which 
weigh  upon  their  sated  souls ;  but  the  weariness  of  the 
work,  and  the  perpetual  recurrence  of  the  toil,  is  too  much 
for  them  ;  and  they  sink  back  with  a  sluggard's  portion  of 
baffled  wishes  and  a  declining  hope. 

Again ;  there  are  many  who  fare  more  hardly — who  have 
fewer  offers  of  this  world's  favor,  and  accept  them  sparingly  ; 
and  they  would  seem  to  be  of  a  self-denying  cast :  but  after 
all,  it  is  no  more  than  the  self-imposed  bondage  of  an  earthly 
heart,  wearying  itself  for  some  mere  earthly  purpose. 
Carefulness  about  money,  love  of  praise,  rivalry,  ambition, 
a  reckless  and  turbulent  spirit,  a  desire  to  be  thought  self- 
denying  and  severely  religious,  will  often  throw  out  a 
character  which  may  be  mistaken  for  self-denial :  and  self- 
denial  in  one  sense  it  is.  Such  men  pursue  their  deliberate 
aim  with  a  concentration  of  powers,  and  a  putting  forth  of 
energies,  which  might  win  for  them  a  high  place  in  God's 
kingdom.  They  will  renounce  every  thing  which  can  relax 
the  intention  of  the  mind  ;  they  lay  out  time,  toil,  substance  ; 
they  forego  ease,  pleasure,  the  gifts  of  life  and  home,  to 
reach  some  aim  on  which  the  gaze  of  their  heart  is  fastened. 
And  yet,  after  all,  it  may  be  no  more  than  a  miserly  greedi- 
ness to  amass  a  fortune,  or  the  lust  of  power,  or  the  earthly 
vanity  of  making  a  family,  or  the  love  of  some  poor  proxi-i 
mate  end,  which  shall  perish  on  this  side  of  the  resurrection.  1 
And  so,  perhaps,  with  each  one  of  us,  it  would  be  hard, 
after  separating  off  all  things  which  a  craving  for  men's 
favorable  judgment,  respect  for  our  own  interest,  the 
promptings  of  a  more  refined  regard  for  self,  produces,  to 


1# 


86  A  SEVERE  LIFE  NECESSARY  [Sekm. 

find  any  one  thing  which  we  do  or  forego  sinoply  and  alto- 
gether for  the  sake  of  Christ.  This  is  all  the  harder  to 
discern  in  lives  that  are  disciplined  by  the  action  and  order 
of  a  system  such  as  ours.  We  live  in  an  age  which  does 
homage  to  propriety  of  conduct.  All  things  around  check 
and  restrain  us  ;  all  the  lesser  moralities  of  life  chasten  and 
throw  us  in  upon  ourselves,  and  bring  us  so  near  to  the 
likeness  of  self-denial,  that  we  may  well  seem',  even  to  our 
own  eyes,  to  be  self-denying.  And  yet,  after  all,  if  we  can 
find  nothing  less  ambiguous  by  which  to  verify  our  claim 
to  be  Christ's  true  followers,  no  seal,  or  countersign,  of  that 
service  which  has  left  its  visible  impression  on  all  the  fel- 
lowship of  saints  —  ours  must  be  a  fearful  self-deceit. 
Surely,  if  we  have  no  mark  upon  us  which  He  will  own, 
when  "  the  sign  of  the  Son  of  Man"  shall  be  revealed — no 
imprinted  tokens  of  His  sharp  crown,  or  of  His  sharper 
cross — how  then  shall  they  know  us  for  His,  who  shall  be 
sent  to  gather  His  elect  from  the  four  winds  of  heaven  ? 

2.  And  if  we  cannot  find  any  thing  in  which  we  deny 
ourselves  already,  we  must  needs  resolve  on  something  in 
which  we  may  deny  ourselves  henceforward.  And  in 
resolving,  we  should  remember  that  it  is  a  poor  self-denial 
which  foregoes  only  inexpedient  or  unnecessary  things. 
These  are  not  the  subject-matter  of  self-denial.  It  is  in 
things  lawful  and  innocent,  and,  it  may  be,  gainful  and  hon- 
orable, and  in  keeping  with  our  lot  in  life,  and  such  things 
as  the  world,  by  its  own  measure,  esteems  to  be  necessary 
.things,  that  we  may  really  try  ourselves  :  as,  for  instance, 
*  in  living  more  simply  than  our  station  in  life  may  prescribe, 
or  our  fortune  require  ;  in  withdrawing  from  contests  of 
precedence  ;  in  contenting  ourselves  with  a  lower  place, 
and  a  less  portion,  than  is  our  acknowledged  due  :  in  living 
toilsome  lives  of  well-doing,  when  we  might  do  well  and 


VII.]  FOR  CHRIST'S  FOLLOWERS.  87 

yet  live  without  toiling ; — in  these,  or  in  points  of  the  like 
kind,  we  may  find  matter  for  self-denial,  and  that  in  many 
ways.  A  man  may  either  deny  himself  greatly,  and  once, 
so  that  his  whole  after-life  shall  bear  the  marks  of  it, — as  in 
giving  up  some  high  and  luring  offer,  and  choosing  a  lowlier 
and  simpler  one ;  in  foregoing  some  dearly  cherished  pur- 
pose, that  he  may  be  more  absolutely  the  disciple  of  Christ ; 
in  crossing  some  deep  yearning  of  the  heart,  that  he  may 
have  more  to  lay  out  in  His  service  :  or  he  may  so  order  his 
self-denial  as  to  make  it  a  daily  and  continual  sacrifice  ;  he 
may  so  mele  out  his  acts  as  to  spread  them  over  a  wider 
surface,  and  along  a  more  protracted  time ;  which  is  like 
retaining  what  we  have,  and  administering  it  by  a  continual 
stewardship,  compared  with  the  selling  at  one  cast  all  that 
we  possess. 

And  we  must  remember  that,  besides  these  universal 
obligations  which  bind  Christians  in  all  ages  of  the  Church, 
there  are  also  particular  and  special  reasons  binding  us 
more  strongly  now.  We  have  need  to  lay  some  such  yoke 
upon  ourselves,  because  we  have  to  pass  through  no  perse- 
cution for  our  Lord.  We  have  no  rending  choice  to  make, 
no  forfeiture  of  all  things  to  endure.  We  should  suffer f 
rather,  were  we  to  forsake  His  service.  All  the  prescrip-  . 
tions  of  nearly  two  thousand  years,  and  all  the  unwritten  f 
customs  of  life,  constrain  us  to  follow  Him.  We  were  made 
His  servants  by  no  will  of  our  own;  we  may  seem  to  abide 
with  Him,  and  yet  have  no  clinging  of  our  moral  nature  to 
His  holy  fellowship.  Our  Christianity  is  indistinguishably 
blended  with  the  unconscious  habits  of  our  passive  life. 
We  have  never  been  tested,  never  in  peril  for  our  hope's 
sake,  never  forced  to  choose  between  suffering  and  apostacy. 
And,  therefore,  under  the  fairest  outside,  there  may  lurk  a 
fearful,  variable  temper,  which,  in  the  day  of  trial,  would 


88  A  SEVERE  LIFE  NECESSARY  [Sekm. 

betray  our  Lord,  and  forfeit  the  crown  of  life.  We  have 
little  opportunity  of  knowing  whether  we  could  endure 
hardness,  except  by  putting  ourselves  upon  some  trying 
rule.  Perhaps  many  live  and  die  unknown  to  themselves, 
fully  persuaded  that  they  are  what  indeed  they  are  not : 
many  think  themselves  to  be  His,  who  will  not  be  found 
among  "  Christ's  at  His  coming."  And  thereJs  still  a  fur- 
ther reason,  and  that  is,  because  the  Church  imposes  on  her 
members  no  private  and  particular  discipline.  Their  self- 
denial,  therefore,  is  the  individual  act  of  each.  The  framing 
of  our  own  private  order  of  religion  is,  for  the  most  part, 
left  to  the  individual  conscience.  And  for  minds  of  a  de- 
voted cast,  it  may  be,  this  is  well.  From  them  it  may  elicit 
higher  forms  of  a  more  conscious  self-oblation.  But  we 
have  need  to  look  to  it,  that  what  the  Church  does  not 
peremptorily  require,  we  do  not  forget  to  practice.  For  the 
health  of  the  moral  character,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that 
we  have  some  definite  rule ;  and  we  have  no  need  to  strain 
after  great  occasions — for  our  every-day  life  abounds  in 
manifold  opportunities  of  self-discipline  :  we  shall  find 
them  in  the  hours  of  prayer,  in  the  practice  of  charity,  in 

-alms-deeds,  in  fasting,  in  abstinence,  in  straitening  our  ease, 
in  abstaining  from  lawful,  and  to  ourselves  expedient,  things 

*for  others'  sakes,  in  curbing  our  pleasures,  in  bearing  slan- 
der, in  forgiving  injuries,  in  obeying  our  superiors,  in  yielding 
to  our  equals,  in  giving  up  our  liberty  for  the  good  of  others, 
in  crossing  the  daily  intentions  of  our  will.  In  these  inward 
and  hidden  motions  of  the  mind  we  may  keep  clear  both 
from  excitement  and  from  eccentricity,  and  yet  live  a  life 
mortified  and  separate  from  the  world  we  see,  and  in  sym- 
pathy with  the  world  unseen.  And  the  man  thus  purged 
of  self  is  drawn  ever  more  and  more  within  the  veil;  the 
realities  of  faith  stand  out  ever  more  and  more  before  his 


VII.]  FOR  CHRIST'S  FOLLOWERS.  89 

eyes  in  awful  majesty;  and  he  lives  no  longer  unto  himself,/ 
but  unto  Christ  his  Lord.  He  is  ever  drawing  nearer  to^ 
His  throne  ;  and  his  lot  shall  be  calm  on  earth,  and  his 
destiny  high  in  heaven,  even  as  that  servant's  who  said, 
"  Henceforth  let  no  man  trouble  me  ;  for  I  bear  in  my  body 
the  marks  of  the  Lord  Jesus  ;"*  and  in  the  clear  foresight 
of  his  departure,  when  the  toil  and  the  cross  were  almost 
ended,  •'  Henceforth  there  is  laid  up  for  me  a  crown  of 
righteousness,  which  the  Lord  the  righteous  Judge  shall 
give  me  at  that  day."t 

•  Gal.  vi.  17.  t  2  Tim.  iv.  8. 


4r: 


SERMON  VIII. 


CHRIST  OUR  ONLY  REST. 


St.  Matthew  xi.  28-30. 
*'  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give 
you  rest.     Take  my  yoke  upon  you,  and  learn  of  me  :  for  I  am  meek 
and  lowly  in  heart :  and  ye  shall  find  rest  unto  your  souls.     For  my 
yoke  is  easy,  and  my  burden  is  light." 

With  these  gracious  promises  our  blessed  Lord  drew  to 
Him  the  people  who  were  toiling  and  struggling  with  the 
burdens  of  this  saddened  and  sinful  world.  He  beheld  not 
only  sinners,  but  many  a  good  man  wearying  himself  in 
vain. 

Among  those  to  whom  He  spoke,  He  saw,  besides  those 
that  were  heavy  laden  with  their  own  sins,  many  who  were 
burdened  with  evil  traditions  and  unmeaning  customs ;  who 
were  fainting  under  the  yoke  which  had  been  laid  upon 
them  as  a  schoolmaster  to  bring  them  unto  Christ.  He 
promised  them  rest,  if  they  would  come,  and  learn,  and 
take  on  them  His  yoke,  that  is,  if  they  would  obey  and 
follow  Him,  if  they  would  believe  and  be  like  Him.  Many 
there  were,  as  Andrew  and  Levi,  who  gave  up  their  former 
ways,  and  all  that  they  had,  and  made  the  trial,  and  found 


liw  ' 


VIII.]  CHRIST  OUR  ONLY  REST.  gi 

the  promise  true.  They  found  rest  in  forgiveness  and  a 
quiet  mind,  in  a  heart  chastened  to  a  holy  calm,  and  in  the 
hope  of  their  Master's  kingdom.  Now  what  He  promised 
them  when  He  was  seen  of  men  on  earth,  He  has  both 
promised  and  fulfilled  ever  since  from  heaven.  By  His 
unseen  Spirit  He  has  ever  been  in  the  world — pleading, 
drawing,  persuading  men  to  take  His  easy  yoke.  This 
He  has  done  by  His  Church  in  all  the  earth.  Among  all 
nations  He  has  gone,  offering  rest  to  every  weary  soul. 
Who  can  tell  what  has  ever  been  the  ineffable  yearning  of 
the  heathen  world ;  what  tumultuous  cries  of  spiritual 
sorrow  have  been  heard  in  the  ears  of  God?  There  has 
ever  been  among  them  the  voice  of  conscience,  and  the 
sting  of  guilt,  and  the  fears  of  defenceless  purity,  and  the 
remorse  of  conscious  sin.  Without  a  doubt,  among  the 
myriads  of  eternal  beings  who  thronged  the  face  of  the 
earth  at  Christ's  coming,  there  were  tens  of  thousands  who 
felt  higher  and  purer  aspirations,  who  sighed  and  strove 
for  light  and  truth  in  the  dark  and  stifling  bondage  of 
heathenism.  And  to  these,  in  due  season,  Christ  in  His 
Church  went  preaching,  as  "  to  spirits  in  prison,"  bringing 
the  balm  of  meekness,  and  the  peace  of  a  lowly  heart. 
When  they  heard  Him,  they  were  drawn  to  Him  by  an 
irresistible  persuasion.  They  had  found  what  in  darkness 
they  longed  for — and  all  the  wants  and  miseries  of  their 
being  clung  to  His  heahng  touch.  They  were  "  refreshed 
with  the  multitude  of  peace." 

And  not  only  so,  but  within  the  Church  itself,  and  to 
this  day,  Christ  ever  calls,  in  these  soft,  persuasive  words, 
"  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  are  weary  and  heavy  laden." 
It  is  not  only  among  the  unregenerate  spirits  of  men,  but 
among  those  also  who  have  been  born  again  by  His  gracious 
working,  that  He  finds  toiling  and  burdened  hearts.     As 


■JW 


92  CHRIST  OUR  ONLY  REST.  [Serm. 

He  stands  in  the  midst  of  His  Cliurch,  and  beholds  our 
daily  life,  and  all  the  hurrying  to  and  fro  of  weary  and 
restless  spirits,  He  sees  and  pities  our  blind  infirmities:  for 
many  are  His  by  baptism,  who  have  never  learnt  of  Him  ; 
many  know  Him  in  word,  who  have  never  borne  His 
yoke  ;  many  have  seemed  to  draw  nigh,  who  have  found 
no  rest  unto  their  souls. 

For  instance,  He  sees  among  us  the  very  same  kinds 
of  men  as  among  the  Jews — sinners  "  laden  with  sins  " — 
men  conscious  of  guilt,  hating  the  sin  for  its  after-agonies, 
but  yielding  to  Its  momentary  bait.  The  throes  and  tor- 
ments of  Christian  men  are  worse  even  than  the  terrors  of 
the  heathen  or  the  Jew.  For  Christians  know  of  life  and 
immortality :  to  them  Tophet  and  Gehenna  are  no  parables, 
but  well-known  and  horrible  realities.  No  tongue  of  man 
can  tell  the  scourge,  and  fear,  and  suffocating  burden  of 
guilt  seen  in  the  light  of  an  illuminated  conscience.  And 
this  is  all  around  us,  among  baptized  men.  It  is  the  cause 
of  their  stubbornness  in  sin,  because  it  is  the  root  of  their 
despair. 

But,  besides  these,  there  are  men  of  a  worldly  heart, 
who  weary  themselves  day  and  night  in  the  round  of  gain 
or  selfishness,  "lading  themselves  with  thick  clay;"  early 
and  late  full  of  care — with  furrowed  brows  and  withered 
hearts ;  wearing  a  false  cheerfulness,  being  sick  in  their 
inmost  soul.  This  world  fairly  frets  such  a  man's  heart 
through  and  through;  to  him  the  world  is  overgrown,  and 
all  its  cares  are  swollen  to  an  unnatural  greatness.  He 
has  no  sight  of  the  world  unseen,  to  check  and  balance  the 
visible  world ;  and  therefore  to  him  this  world  is  all  things. 
Hence  come  foolish  choices,  and  inordinate  cravings,  and 
bitter  disappointments.  I  am  not  speaking  of  men  who 
are  so  greedy  of  gold  as  to  pass  into  a  proverb  ;  but  of  a 


^=^ 


villi  CHRIST  OUR  ONLY  REST.  gg 

coramun  sample  of  men,  whose  aim  in  life  is  to  gain  no 
more  than  an  ordinary  measure  of  wealth,  or  to  rise,  as 
ihey  say,  to  becoming  places  of  dignity  and  power.  If  you 
could  read  the  inner  life  of  such  men,  you  would  find  their 
minds  wound  up  to  an  incessant  and  unrelieved  stretch, 
which  is  ever  at  the  highest  pitch.  At  last  it  makes  them 
weary  of  themselves,  and  they  break  down  in  bitterness  or 
imbecility.  There  is  also  all  the  aching  of  disappointment, 
aud  the  irritation  of  rivalry'',  and  the  fear  of  miscarriage, 
and  the  foresight  of  unpitied  falls  ;  and  well  is  it  if  there  be 
not  also  the  hidden  smouldering  of  an  angry  jealousy,  and 
the  wincing  soreness,  which  ambitious  and  envious  minds 
feel  at  the  very  name  of  a  successful  neighbor.  What 
burden  heavier  than  this  dead  world  bound  about  the  heart 
of  man  ?  what  yoke  more  galling  than  a  restless,  craving 
spirit  ? 

And,  once  more  ;  there  are  others  who  are  not  less  truly 
laboring  in  vain,  though  they  know  it  not :  I  mean,  those 
that  are  making  happiness  their  aim  in  life.  There  are 
many  who  ply  this  unprofitable,  disappointing  trade.  I  am 
not  speaking  of  sensualists,  or  empty-hearted  followers  of 
this  vain-glorious  world  ;  but  of  grave  and  thoughtful  peo- 
ple, whose  theory  of  life  is  the  pursuit  of  individual  happi- 
ness. They  look  forward,  as  a  matter  of  course,  to  certain 
great  acts  and  stages  of  life,  as  to  things  predetermined  by 
a  customary  law.  Oftentimes,  indeed,  their  aims  and  desires 
are  very  reasonable ;  sometimes  sadly  commonplace. 
They  choose  out,  for  instance,  some  of  life's  purer  fountains, 
running  through  a  broken  cistern,  at  which  to  slake  their 
thirst  to  be  happy.  There  is  something  lacking — something 
without  which  their  being  is  not  full.  They  take,  it  may 
be,  many  ways  of  meeting  this  craving  of  their  hearts  ;  but 
diverse  as  are  their  schemes,  their  aim  is  all  one — they 


94  CHRIST  OUR  ONLY  REST.  [Serm. 

have  a  predominant  desire  to  be  happy,  and  to  choose  their 
own  happiness  ;  and  therefore  they  are  full  of  disappoint 
ments,  perpetually  wounded  on  some  side,  which  they  have 
laid  bare  to  the  arrows  of  life.  The  treacherous  reed  is 
ever  running  up  into  the  hand  that  leans  on  it.  They  are 
ever  giving  hostages,  as  it  were,  to  this  changeful  world, 
and  ever  losing  their  dearest  pledges;  and  so  they  toil  on, 
trying  to  rear  up  a  happiness  around  them,  which  is  ever 
dropping  piecemeal,  and,  at  last,  is  swept  away  by  some 
chastening  stroke  ;  and  then,  no  wiser  than  before,  they  set 
themselves,  with  a  bruised  and  chafing  heart,  to  weave  the 
same  entanglements  again. 

From  what  has  been  said,  it  follows  plainly  : 
First,  that  all  our  unrest  and  weariness  is  in  and  of  our- 
selves. It  is  either  the  slavery  of  some  tyrannous  sin,  or 
the  scourge  of  an  impenitent  memory,  or  the  indulgence  of 
some  fretful,  implacable  temper,  or  some  self-flattering  and 
sensitive  vanity,  some  repining  discontent  at  v/hat  we  are, 
or  some  impotent  straining  after  what  God  has  not  willed 
us  to  be,  or  some  hungering  for  an  earthly  happiness,  with 
all  the  chill  and  fainlness  of  heart  which  arises  from  the  ever- 
present  consciousness  that  what  we  crave  for,  even  though 
we  had  it,  would  fail  to  satisfy  ;  besides  all  these,  the  weary 
recurrence  of  night  and  day,  laboriously  spent  in  toihng  on 
towards  an  end  they  never  reach, — these,  I  say,  and  only 
these,  or  such  like,  make  men  weary  and  desolate.  If  they 
would  only  burst  through  this  thraldom  of  indulged  faults, 
or  break  the  spell  of  this  cheating,  benumbing  world,  they 
should  soon  find  rest  to  their  souls.  But  so  long  as  they 
run  on  in  the  ring  of  evil  or  vain  desires,  God  will  not  give 
them  rest ;  nay,  should  He  give  it,  they  would  soon  barter 
it  away  for  some  exciting  pleasure. 

Once  more  ;  we  may  learn  that  it  is  only  in  Him  that 


VIII.]  CHRIST  OUR  ONLY  REST.  95 

we  can  find  rest ;  that  is,  it  is  only  by  learning  of  Him, 
yielding  ourselves  up  to  him,  and  living  for  him,  that  we  can 
find  release  from  the  causes  of  our  disquiet,  or  rest  for  the 
deep  cravings  of  an  immortal  being. 

The  main  and  original  fault  in  all  our  toiling  after  rest 
is  this  :  we  forget  that  peace  with  God,  and  the  purification 
of  our  own  nature,  is  the  absolute  condition  to  our  ever 
reaching  it.  Here  men  stumble  on  the  very  threshold  ;  and 
here  it  is  that  Christ  will  have  us  make  the  first  step. 
"  Take  my  yoke  upon  you,  and  learn  of  me  ;  for  I  am  meek 
and  lowly  in  heart."  The  first  step  to  rest  is,  to  have  for- 
giveness in  the  blood-shedding  of  Christ,  and  to  have  His 
mind  renewed  in  us.  It  is  thus  that  we  are  delivered  from 
ourselves.  Even  though  men  should  gain  all  they  labor  after, 
yet  without  this,  happiness  would  be  as  far  off  as  ever ;  it 
would  fly  before  them  as  the  horizon,  which  they  are  ever 
following  after,  but  never  reach.  In  the  very  midst  of  suc- 
cess, the  bitterness  of  the  fallen  nature  would  rise  to  the 
surface,  and  taint  all  the  joy.  How  uneasily  does  a  cheer- 
ful look  sit  upon  the  face  of  the  happiest  worldly  man  !  how 
soon  it  fades,  and  the  settled  aspect  of  uncertainty  return 
and  overcast  his  brow  !  There  is  a  worm  that  dieth  not  at 
the  root  of  all — a  "  sorrow  of  the  world,"  which  "  worketh 
death."  It  is  only  the  virtue  that  goes  out  from  Christ  that 
can  disinfect  us  of  our  natural  sadness.     Nothino^  but  a  de- 

O 

vout  life  of  repentance  and  self-discipline  at  the  foot  of  His 
cross  can  avail  to  free  us  from  ourselves.  Seek,  then,  for- 
giveness, and  the  gift  of  a  broken  heart.  Ask  of  Him  the 
words  of  peace — "  Thy  sins  be  forgiven  thee ;"  and  the 
words  of  purity — "I  will ;  be  thou  clean."  He  will  lay  on 
you  that  sweet  yoke,  of  which  He  spake  in  the  mountain  of 
beatitudes  :  Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit,  the  mourners,  the 
meek,  the  hungry  and  thirsty  for  righteousness,  the  merciful, 


96  CHRIST  OUR  ONLY  REST.  [Serm. 

the  poor,  the  peacemakers,  the  persecuted.  He  will  change 
your  inward  soul  by  His  purifying  breath.  As  you  fall 
down  before  Him,  He  will  lift  upon  you  the  light  of  His 
countenance,  which  transfigures  all  on  whom  it  falls  into  the 
likeness  of  Himself.  Be  sure  that  in  Him  only  can  the  deep 
cravings  of  our  immortal  being  find  enough.  He  has  so 
made  man's  heart  for  Himself,  that  it  is  ever  restless  until 
it  finds  rest  in  Him.* 

This  is  the  master-key  to  all  earthly  disappointments. 
Men  choose  a  false,  cheating  happiness,  instead  of  a  true. 
They  choose  things  which  have  nothing  akin  to  their  im- 
mortal nature.  All  earthly  things  are  too  lifeless  and  dull 
for  the  tact  of  spiritual  beings.  Something  higher  and 
purer,  more  intimate  and  searching,  is  needed  for  a  regen- 
erate man :  for  only  a  part,  and  that  the  lower,  of  his 
reasonable  being  is  affected  by  the  fullest  earthly  happiness  ; 
and  when  men  have  chosen  even  the  best  of  earthly  things, 
the  purest  and  highest — such  as  intellectual  employments, 
or  domestic  happiness- — they  find  it  variable  and  fleeting. 
It  wears  dull,  or  soon  changes  to  a  cloyed  satiety.  There 
is  an  ever-springing  care,  and  a  thrilling  anxiety,  which 
pierces  through  all  such  happiness  at  its  best.  Even  when 
God  is  not  forgotten,  it  is  not  enough ;  and  without  Him  it 
is  all  an  exciting  and  empty  dream.  Oh  that  men  would 
learn  of  the  Psalmist !  "  Delight  thyself  in  the  Lord  ;  and 
He  shall  give  thee  the  desires  of  thine  heart."!  It  is  not 
for  man  to  choose  happiness  as  the  end  of  life — but  God  : 
to  delight  in  God,  and  then  none  of  his  desires  shall  fail. 
As  they  are  all  laid  up  in  God,  so  he  has  them  all  fulfilled. 
If  it  be  good  for  him  to  be  happy,  he  shall  have  happiness  ; 
if  not,  it  is  happiness  to  him  to  lack  what  God  in  love 
withholds. 

*  St.  Augustine's  Confessions.  t  Psalm  xxxvii.  4. 


VIII.]  CHRIST  OUR  ONLY  REST.  9«? 

But  God  would  have  all  men  happy.     As  He  has  no 
pleasure  in  the  death  of  a  sinner,  so  He  has  none  in  his 
sadness.     He  would  have  you  to  be  happy,  but  not  in  your 
way.     The  time  and  the  manner  He  reserves  in  His  own 
power.      Happiness  is  not  a  thing  inherited    by  the  rich 
alone — the  poorest  may  better  have  it;  nor  is  it  only  for 
them  that  have  many  and  dear  friends   about  them— the 
loneliest  may  have  it  in  a  deeper  though  a  severer  measure ; 
for  happiness  is  an  inward  boon  ;  it  is  shed  abroad  secretly 
in  the  heart  b}'  the  love  of  Christ.     They  that  have  chosen 
Him,  above  all  others  have  chosen  well.     He  is  enough, 
though  they  hardly  feel  it :    though  their  affections  crave 
about,   like   a  flickering   flame,   for    nearer    and    palpable 
things.     Therefore  let  us  choose  boldly.     Some  choice  you 
must  have.     Even  the  most  wavering  have  a  preference, 
which  to  them   is  equal  to  a  choice.     A  thousand  other 
forms  beckon  to  us  with  promises  of  rest ;  but  only  He  can 
give  it.     Choose  rather  to  sit  at  His  feet  than  to  be  at  ease, 
or  rich,  or  high,  or  prosperous,  or  full  of  bright  earthly  hopes. 
Yea,  choose  rather  to  sit  in  loneliness  before  Him,  than  to 
dwell  in  the  happiest  throng  where  He  holds  the  second 
place.     Life  is  very  short ;  and  the  world  to  come  already 
dawns  upon  us.     Brethren,  choose  boldly  a  life  devoted  to 
Christ.     Be  His  above  all  ;  be  His  only.     Hear  the  Church 
saying,  "  My  Beloved  is  mine,  and  I  am  His."     The  world 
holds  you  but  by  a  thread ;  you  may  snap  it  in  twain,  and 
in  the  settled  though  hidden  purpose  of  your  soul  take  on 
you  His  yoke  for  ever. 

And  having  chosen  boldly,  make  good  your  choice  with 
perseverance.  Many  a  time  your  heart  will  hanker  for  what 
it  once  promised  itself  to  possess.  Many  a  time  you  will 
almost  fear  to  walk  alone  in  the  way  "  which  is  desert." 
It  will  seem  strange,  singular,  and  solitary.     It  may  be,  you 

VOL.  I. -7. 


98  CHRIST  OUR  ONLY  REST.  [Serm.  VIIL 

will  have  seasons  of  a  faint  will — at  times  all  but  consent 
to  revoke  your  choice,  and  unbind  your  resolution.  But 
this  is  not  your  trial  only.  It  is  common  to  all  who  devote 
themselves  greatly.  Only  be  steadfast,  and  you  shall 
breathe  more  freely,  and  poise  yourselves  more  steadily  on 
the  heaving  flood  of  this  unstable  world.  The  more  de- 
voted you  are  to  Him,  the  more  absolutely  free  shall  you  be 
from  all  perturbations — the  safer,  the  stronger,  the  happier. 
True,  a  devoted  life  is  a  severe  one.  But  there  is  a  severity 
in  the  perfection  of  bliss.  It  is  severe  because  perfect,  as 
God  is  awful  in  His  perfection.  Fear  not  to  give  up  what 
the  world  counts  dearest,  that  you  may  wear  His  yoke  in 
secret.  Live  in  lowly  well-doing;  in  works  of  alms  and 
prayer,  of  charity  and  spiritual  mercy.  Better  to  be  so 
under  a  vow  to  Him,  than  to  be  free  to  choose  this  world's 
alluring  hopes.  Brethren,  are  you  happy  now?  If  not, 
why  not  ?  Why,  but  because  you  are  hankering  after 
something  on  a  lower  level  of  devotion.  Something  below 
Christ  is  your  aim  in  life.  You  are  restless  because  you 
have  not  reached  it ;  or  now  that  you  have  it  in  your  hands, 
you  find  it  cannot  satisfy  your  heart. 

"  Martha,  Martha,  thou  art  careful  and  cumbered  about 
many  things.  But  one  thing  is  needful ;  and  Mary  hath 
chosen  that  good  part,  which  shall  not  be  taken  away  from 
her."* 

^  •  St.  Luke  X.  41,  42. 


SERMON  IX. 


THE  DAGGER  OF  MISTAKING  KNOWLEDGE  FOR  OBEDIENCE. 


St.  James  i.  22,  23,  24. 

"  But  be  ye  doers  of  the  word,  and  not  hearers  only,  deceiving  your  own 
selves.  For  if  any  be  a  hearer  of  the  word,  and  not  a  doer,  he  is  like 
unto  a  man  beholding  his  natural  face  in  a  glass  :  for  he  beholdeth 
himself  and  goeth  his  way,  and  straightway  forgetteth  what  manner 
of  man  he  was." 

St.  James  is  here  warning  the  great  body  of  the  Church 
against  a  very  common  and  subtil  temptation ;  that  is,  the 
substituting  of  Christian  knowledge  for  Christian  obedience. 
The  Gospel  had  in  it  such  an  overwhelming  power  of 
speculative  and  moral  truth  as  to  subdue  a  mixed  multitude 
of  men  to  a  sort  of  professed  allegiance  to  the  mysteries  of 
God.  It  came  into  the  world  as  a  veiled  light  of  transcend- 
ent brightness,  revealing  the  mystery  of  the  Godhead,  and 
the  condition  of  mankind  ;  resolving  the  doubts  of  the  wise, 
and  unravelling  the  perplexities  of  the  unlearned  ;  it  laid 
open  the  secrets  of  the  unseen  world,  and  put  a  continuous 
meaning  into  the  great  movements  of  the  world  we  see  ;  it 
made  man  to  know  and  to  feel  that  he  is  a  fallen  and  sinful 


100  THE  DANGER  OF  MISTAKING  [Sbk». 

being,  and  that  God,  of  His  great  love,  has  pledged  to  him 
the  forgiveness  of  his  sins.  And  thus,  as  it  declared  the 
character  of  God,  and  the  standing  of  man  before  Him,  and 
the  mysteries  of  life  and  death,  and  hell  and  heaven,  it 
silenced  the  disputations  of  contending  schools,  and  won 
men  to  itself  by  the  yearnings  of  their  hearts,  and  the  con- 
victions of  their  understanding,  and  the  judgments  of  con- 
science, and  a  miraculous  consent  of  will  ;  it  held  up  each 
man  to  himself,  as  in  a  mirror  of  supernatural  truth,  reveal- 
ing depths  of  evil  which  men  knew  not  before  ;  and  thus 
there  was  gathered  round  the  Gospel  a  mixed  and  number- 
less multitude  of  all  kinds  and  characters  of  life  ;  from  the 
holiest  to  the  least  purified,  from  the  man  who  is  sanctified 
beyond  the  measure  of  his  knowledge,  to  the  man  whose 
knowledge  was  as  full  as  his  life  was  unholy. 

Now  this  is  the  sin  and  the  danger  against  which  St. 
James  warns  them  ;  against  the  sin,  that  is,  of  having 
knowledge  without  obedience,  and  the  danger  of  hearing 
without  doing  the  word  of  God.  He  tells  them  that  all  such 
knowledge  is  in  vain,  nay  worse  than  in  vain.  And  this  is 
what  we  will  more  fully  consider. 

1.  In  the  first  place,  we  must  remember  that  this  know- 
ledge without  obedience  ends  in  nothing.  It  is,  as  St.  James 
says,  like  a  man  who  looks  at  his  own  face  in  a  glass.  For 
a  time  he  has  the  clearest  perception  of  his  own  counte- 
nance ;  every  line  and  feature,  even  the  lightest  expression, 
is  visible,  and,  by  the  mysteriously  retentive  pov^er  of  the 
mind,  he  holds  it  for  a  while  in  what  we  call  the  mind's 
eye  :  but  when  he  has  gone  his  way,  the  whole  image  fades, 
and  the  vividness  of  other  objects  overpowers  it,  so  that  he 
becomes  habitually  more  famifiar  with  the  aspect  of  all  other 
things  than  with  his  own  natural  face.  Nothing  can  better 
express  the  shallowness  and  fleetingness  of  knowledge  with- 


IX.]  KNOWLEDGE  FOR  OBEDIENCE.  101 

out  obedience.  For  the  time  it  is  vivid  and  exact,  but  it 
passes  off  in  nothing — no  resolution  recorded  in  the  con- 
science, or,  if  recorded,  none  maintained  ;  no  change  of  life, 
nothing  done,  or  left  undone,  for  the  sake  of  the  truth  which 
is  shadowed  upon  the  understanding.  And  this  is  the  folly 
which  our  Lord  rebukes  in  the  parable  of  the  man  that  built 
his  house  upon  the  sand.  He  was  not  comparing  the  solidity 
of  doctrinal  foundations  ;  but  exhibiting  the  folly  and  dis- 
appointment of  knowledge  without  obedience.  *'  Every  one 
that  heareth  these  sayings  of  mine,  and  doeth  them  not, 
shall  be  likened  unto  a  foolish  man,  which  built  his  house 
upon  the  sand  :  and  the  rain  descended,  and  the  floods  came, 
and  the  winds  blew,  and  beat  upon  that  house  ;  and  it  fell, 
and  great  was  the  fall  of  it."* 

2.  But  it  must  also  be  considered  that  knowing  without 
obeying  is  worse  than  in  vain.  It  inflicts  a  deep  and  last- 
ing injury  upon  the  powers  of  our  spiritual  nature.  Even  in 
the  hardest  of  men,  a  knowledge  of  Christianity  produces 
an  effect  upon  the  conscience  and  the  heart.  It  excites  in 
a  man  certain  convictions  and  emotions,  and  these  are  mys- 
terious gifts  of  God  ;  they  are  the  first  movements  of  the 
moral  powers  that  are  within  us,  the  first  impulse  to  set  us 
in  motion  towards  God.  It  is  by  these  inward  strivings 
that  knowledge  brings  a  man  to  repentance  and  to  eter- 
nal life.  But  they  are  only  movements  and  impulses — 
means  to  a  further  end,  and  good  in  so  far  as  they  attain 
that  end.  In  their  own  nature  they  are  most  transitory: 
they  can  be  prolonged  only  by  issuing  in  obedience,  and 
thereby  settling  into  principle  ;  or,  if  they  issue  in  nothing, 
by  keeping  up  a  perpetual  succession  of  the  same  excite- 
ments. Now  here  is  the  peril  of  habitually  listening  to 
truths  which  we  habitually  disobey.     Every  time  we  hear 

*  St.  Matthew  vii.  26,  27. 


102  THE  DANGER  OF  MISTAKING  [Sebr. 

them,  they  goad  the  conscience,  and  stir  the  heart ;  but 
every  lime  with  a  lessened  force,  and,  as  it  were,  with  a 
blunter  edge  ; — not,  indeed,  that  they  can  lose  aught  of  their 
own  power  and  keenness,  but  because  the  often-excited 
mind  grows  languid  and  dull ;  its  senses,  often  acted  on, 
are  deadened  ;  the  passive  powers  of  the  mind  wear  out,  as 
the  ear  seems  to  lose  all  hearing  of  familiar  sounds,  or  as  a 
pampered  palate  is  vitiated  and  its  functions  destroyed. 
So  it  is  with  men  who  from  their  baptism  have  been  familiar 
with  the  mysteries  of  Christ.  In  childhood,  boyhood,  man- 
hood, the  same  sounds  of  warning,  and  promise,  and  per- 
suasion, the  same  hopes  and  fears,  have  fallen  on  a  heedless 
ear,  and  a  still  more  heedless  heart :  they  have  lost  their 
power  over  the  man  ;  he  has  acquired  a  settled  habit  of 
hearing  without  doing.  The  whole  force  of  habit — that 
strange  mockery  of  nature — has  reinforced  his  original 
reluctance  to  obey ;  and  long  familiarity  with  truth  makes 
it  all  the  harder  to  recognise, — as  the  faces  of  those  we  most 
intimately  know  are  often  less  distinct  in  our  memory  than 
those  we  have  seen  but  seldom,  and  therefore  noted  all  the 
more  exactly. 

3.  But  there  is  a  yet  further  danger  still ;  for  knowledge 
without  obedience  is  an  arch-deceiver  of  mankind.  "  Be 
ye  doers  of  the  word,  and  not  hearers  only,  deceiving  your 
own  selves " — deceiving,  that  is,  as  if  you  were  any  the 
nearer  heaven  for  a  cold,  barren  consciousness  that  the 
Gospel  is  the  word  of  God,  or  a  clear  intellectual  perception 
of  its  several  doctrines.  Nay,  it  deceives  a  man  into  the 
belief  that  he  really  is  what  he  so  clearly  knows  he  ought 
to  be ;  that  he  is  really  moving  onward  in  the  path  which 
he  so  clearly  knows  he  must  walk  in,  if  he  would  inherit 
the  kingdom  of  God.  It  is  a  wonderful  imposture  men 
pass  upon  themselves.     One  would  think,  the  clearer  a 


IX.]  KNOWLEDGE  FOR  OBEDIENCE.  IQS 

man's  knowledge  of  what  he  ought  to  do  and  be,  the  clearer 
would  be  his  perception  of  the  vast  moral  distance  between 
that  high  standard   and   his  actual  state.     But,  no.     The 
heart  is  a  busy  mocker  of  the  conscience  :  it  borrows  of  the 
understanding  and  of  the  imagination  visions  and  shadows 
of  eternal  truth,  and  it  flatters  the  conscience  into  a  pleasant 
belief  that  such  are  its  own  spontaneous  dictates  and  inten- 
tions ;    it  cheats   it  into  appropriating,   as  its  own  moral 
character,  the  mere  shadows  which  lie  on  the  surface  of 
the  intellect.     And  from  this  comes  the  ready  and  exact 
profession  of  religion  which  is  often  found   in  the  mouth 
even  of  irreligious  men:    they  know  so  well  what  a  holy 
character  ought  to  be,  that  they  are  able  exactly  to  describe 
it.     They  can  sketch  out  all  its  outline,  and  fill  in  its  detail, 
and  color  it,  by  what  we  should  call  the  merely  imaginative 
or  graphic  powers  of  the  mind.     And  as  the  most  undis- 
guised fictions  often  move  our  lower  feelings  as  deeply  as 
truth  itself,  emotions  come  in  to  help  the  cheat,  and  a  man 
really  kindles  at  his  own  vivid  descriptions  ;  but  he  deceives 
others  less  than  he  deceives  himself.     When  he  speaks  of 
the  love  of  God,  or  the  passion  of  Christ,  or  the  heavenly 
Jerusalem,  or  the  crowns  of  martyrs,  and  the  holiness  of 
saints,  and  the  happiness  of  a  Christian  life,   the   topics 
grow  upon  him,  and  he  moves  himself,  much  as  he  might 
by  some  pathetic  tale,  and  his  emotions  flatter  him  into  the 
belief  that  he  is  a  man  of  religious  feelings;  and  then  how 
can  he  doubt  that  his  heart  is  religious  too?     So  we  mock 
ourselves,  and  Satan  ensnares  us.     We  draw  a  haze,  as  it 
were,  over  the  clear  eye  of  the  conscience,  by  the  warmth 
of  kindled  emotions;  and  the  outlines  of  our  slighted  know- 
ledge are  verily  taken  for  the  realities  of  a  holy  life.     This 
will  be  found  to  be  the  true  key  of  many  characters.     We 
see  men  who  know  every  thing  a  Christian  has   need  to 


m 


104  THE  DANGER  OF  MISTAKING  [Serb. 

know  to  his  soul's  health,  and  yet  are  as  little  like  Chris- 
tians in  their  daily  habit  of  life,  as  if  they  bad  never  reached 
beyond  the  moral  philosophy  of  heathen  schools.  But 
nothing  would  make  them  believe  it;  they  are  deceiving 
their  own  selves.  Again ;  there  are  men  who  can  never 
speak  of  religious  truth  without  emotion,  and  sometimes 
not  without  tears  ;  and  yet,  though  their  knowledge  has  so 
much  of  fervor  as  to  make  them  weep,  it  has  not  power 
enough  to  make  them  deny  a  lust.  Ay,  brethren,  it  will 
be  found  with  most  of  us,  that  we  verily  believe  ourselves 
to  be  better  than  we  are.  It  is  a  pleasant  flattery,  and  a 
quiet  self-indulgence,  which  winds  itself  through  our  minds, 
and  soothes  us  when  we  are  ill  at  ease.  We  overrate 
what  we  do  well ;  we  wink  at  what  we  do  amiss.  We 
comfort  ourselves  that  we  know  better,  and  shall  therefore 
do  better  another  time.  We  fall  back  on  our  better  know- 
ledge, as  a  make  weight  against  our  worse  practice,  and  as 
a  pledge  of  future  improvement,  forgetting  that  it  aggravates 
our  present  faults. 

4.  And  this  brings  us  to  another  thought :  this  knowing 
and  disobeying  it  is  that  makes  so  heavy  and  awful  the 
responsibilities  of  Christians.  The  servant  that  knew  his 
Lord's  will,  and  did  it  not,  shall  be  beaten  with  many 
stripes  ;  but  the  servant  who  knew  not  his  Lord's  will,  and 
did  not  make  ready,  shall  be  beaten  with  few  stripes.  It 
is  a  good  plea  and  a  prevailing  to  say,  "  Lord,  I  knew  not 
that  it  was  Thy  will."  Even  Saul  was  forgiven,  albeit  he 
persecuted  the  Church  of  God.  "  I  obtained  mercy,  because 
I  did  it  ignorantly  in  unbelief."  But  knowledge  is  a  great 
and  awful  gift :  it  makes  a  man  partaker  of  the  mind  of 
God  ;  it  communes  with  him  of  the  eternal  will,  and  reveals 
to  him  the  royal  law  of  God's  kingdom.  A  man  cannot 
know  and  slight  these  things  without  grievous  and  fearful 


IX.]  KNOWLEDGE  FOR  OBEDIENCE.  105 

sin.  "  It  is  better  not  to  have  known  the  way  of  righteous- 
ness, than  after  they  have  known  it  to  turn  from  the  holy 
commandment  delivered  unto  them."  To  hold  this  know- 
ledge in  unrighteousness,  to  imprison  it  in  the  stifling  hold 
of  an  impure,  a  proud,  or  a  rebellious  heart,  is  a  most 
appalling  insult  against  the  majesty  of  the  God  of  truth. 

For  whom  were  the  heaviest  words  of  doom  reserved 
by  our  most  patient  and  gentle  Lord,  but  for  those  that  had 
known  Him,  but  not  obeyed  ?  *'  Woe  unto  thee,  Chorazin  ! 
woe  unto  thee,  Bethsaida  !  for  if  the  mighty  works  had  been 
done  in  Tyre  and  Sidon  which  have  been  done  in  you,  they 
had  a  great  while  ago  repented,  sitting  in  sackcloth  and 
ashes  :  but  it  shall  be  more  tolerable  for  Tyre  and  Sidon  at 
the  judgment  than  for  you.  And  thou,  Capernaum,  which 
art  exalted  to  heaven,  shall  be  thrust  down  to  hell."* 

What  was  this  but  the  recoil  of  truth  upon  the  soul  that 
had  shghted  its  warning  voice  ?  "  Whosoever  shall  fall 
upon  this  stone  shall  be  broken  ;  but  on  whomsoever  it  shall 
fall,  it  will  grind  him  to  powder."! 

These,  then,  are  some  of  the  many  reasons  why  we 
have  need  to  watch  against  this  subtil  temptation.  It  is  a 
vain  and  hurtful  thing,  full  of  deceit  and  danger,  to  hear  and 
not  to  do,  to  know  and  not  to  obey,  the  Gospel ;  and  it  is  a 
temptation  to  which  the  Church,  though  exposed  at  all  times, 
is  most  especially  liable  when  the  means  of  knowledge  are 
greatly  multiplied,  and  the  bonds  of  discipline  are  greatly 
relaxed  ; — and  such  a  state  of  the  Church  is  ours  now,  at 
this  day.  From  baptism  to  the  end  of  life,  you  have  God's 
holy  word,  and  the  holy  sacraments,  the  fasts  and  festivals, 
and  all  the  sacred  admonitions  of  things  old  and  new,  to 
force  a  knowledge  of  religion  even  upon  unwilling  minds. 
It  is  as  the  light  of  heaven,  which  we  cannot  choose  but  see, 

*  St.  Luke  X.  13-15.  t  Ibid.  xx.  18. 


106  THE  DANGER  OF  MISTAKING  [Skrm. 

though  we  may  wilfull}'^  shut  our  eyes.  In  such  a  state,  the 
danger  of  living  far  behind  the  light  we  have  is  infinitely 
great;  especially  as  our  rule  of  self-discipline  is  chiefly 
made  by  each  man  for  himself;  and  the  custom  of  the 
world,  which  is  unchangeably  at  variance  with  the  mind 
and  Church  of  God,  bears  heavily  upon  us.  We  have  to 
breast  it  and  to  stem  it,  and  are  perpetually  carried  by  it 
away  from  our  resolutions.  But  these  are  perilous  declen- 
sions, making  great  havoc  in  the  inward  character. 

Steadily  resolve,  therefore,  to  live  up  to  the  light  you 
possess.  There  is  an  unity,  a  sameness,  and  a  strength 
about  a  consistent  mind.  The  light  you  already  have  is 
great,  and  great  therefore  must  be  your  obedience  ;  and 
remember  that  to  linger  behind,  or  to  follow  afar  off",  is  as 
if  you  should  suffer  your  guide  to  outstrip  you  in  the  night- 
season.  You  hold  your  present  knowledge  on  the  tenure 
of  obedience :  to  disobey  it,  is  to  dim  its  brightness,  and 
yet  to  deepen  your  responsibility;  for  we  shall  answer  even 
less  heavily  for  what  we  still  have  than  for  what  we  have 
lost.  These  are  fearful  words :  "  They  received  not  the 
love  of  truth,  that  they  might  be  saved.  And  for  this  cause 
God  shall  send  them  strong  delusion,  that  they  should  be- 
lieve a  lie :  that  they  all  might  be  damned  who  believed 
not  the  truth,  but  had  pleasure  in  unrighteousness."* 

But  though  for  the  most  part  your  knowledge  is  great, 
there  are  some  who  feel  or  believe  their  own  light  to  be 
small.  It  is  not  in  the  greatness  of  the  light,  but  in  the 
closeness  with  which  we  follow  it,  that  we  shall  find  safety. 
*'  Thy  word  is  a  light  unto  my  feet,  and  a  lantern  to  my 
path."  The  clear  dictate  of  conscience,  enlightened  by 
even  a  single  ray  of  truth,  guiding  the  details  of  a  Christian's 
daily  life,  will  bring  him  to  heaven.     Therefore,  once  more, 

*  2  Thess.  ii.  10-12. 


IX.]  KNOWLEDGE  FOR  OBEDIENCE.  107 

let  us  learn  not  to  delay  to  follow  with  readiness  the  guid- 
ance of  right  knowledge.  If  it  do  but  beckon  or  point  you 
in  the  way  of  obedience,  follow  without  lingering.  The 
first  penetrating  conviction,  and  the  kindled  emotion,  and 
the  momentary  willingness  which  raises  the  eyes  of  obedient 
hearts  to  higher  and  holier  paths,  and  dislodges  even  a 
stubborn  mind  from  its  most  settled  purpose — these  are  sent 
as  the  first  impulses  to  launch  you  in  an  heavenward  course. 
Do  not  slight  them :  beware  how  you  stifle  them.  They 
are  as  fleeting  as  the  memory  of  a  reflected  image.  It  may 
be  you  have  them  now  :  if  lost,  it  may  be  you  shall  never 
have  them  again. 


SERMON  X. 


OBEDIENCE  THE  ONLY  REALITY. 


1  St.  John  ii.  17. 

'*  The  world  passeth  away,  and  the  lust  thereof;  but  he  that  doeth  the 
will  of  God  abideth  forever." 

It  may  seem  perhaps  a  hard  saying,  that  in  this  majestic 
and  dazzling  world  there  is  only  one  imperishable  reality, 
and  that,  a  thing  most  hidden  and  despised — I  mean,  a  will 
obedient  to  the  will  of  God.  Yet  nothing  is  more  certain. 
It  is  plain  that  nothing  is  truly  real  which  is  not  eternal.  In 
a  certain  sense,  all  things,  the  most  shadowy  and  fleeting, 
— the  frosts,  and  dews,  and  mists  of  heaven, — are  real ; 
every  light  which  falls  from  the  upper  air,  every  reflection 
of  its  brightness  towards  heaven  again,  is  a  reality.  It  is  a 
creature  of  God  ;  and  is  here,  in  His  world,  fulfilling  His 
word.  But  these  things  we  are  wont  to  take  as  symbols 
and  parables  of  unreality,  and  that  because  they  are  change- 
ful and  transitory.  It  is  clear,  then,  that  when  we  speak 
of  realities,  we  mean  things  that  have  in  them  the  germ  of 
an  abiding  life.  Things  which  pass  away  at  last,  how  long 
soever  they  may  seem  to  tarry  with  us,  we  call  forms  and 


Serm.  X]  obedience  THE  ONLY  REALITY.  1(J9 

appearances.  They  have  no  intrinsic  being ;  for  a  time 
they  are,  and  then  they  are  not.  Their  very  being  was  an 
accident ;  they  were  shadows  of  a  reality,  cast  for  a  time  into 
the  world,  and  then  withdrawn.  In  strictness  of  speech, 
then,  we  can  call  nothing  real  which  is  not  eternal.  Now  it 
is  in  this  sense  that  I  have  said,  the  only  reality  in  the  world 
is  a  will  obedient  to  the  will  of  God  :  and  this  truth  we  will 
consider  more  at  large. 

1.  First  of  all,  it  is  plain  that  the  only  reality  in  this  visi- 
ble world  is  man.  "  The  earth,  and  all  the  works  that  are 
therein,  shall  be  burned  up."*  Whatsoever  may  lie  hid  in 
these  awful  words,  it  is  clear  that  they  declare  this  world  to 
be  transitory,  and  its  end  determined.  Of  all  things  that 
have  life  without  a  reasonable  soul,  we  know  no  more  than 
that  they  perish.  All  visible  things  are  ever  changing ; 
material  forms  passing  into  new  combinations,  shifting  their 
sameness  with  their  shapes  :  all  things  around  us,  and  above 
us,  and  beneath,  are  full  of  change  ;  they  heave,  and  mingle, 
and  resolve,  and  pass  off  by  some  mysterious  law  of  inter- 
communication, and  by  that  law  declare  that  the}'^  are  not 
eternal.  In  like  manner,  all  the  works  of  men,  all  the  arts  of 
life,  are  no  more  than  the  impressions  and  characters  left  by 
the  spirit  of  man,  while  subject  to  the  conditions  of  an  earthly 
state.  Kingdoms,  and  politics,  and  laws,  and  armies,  and 
mechanical  powers,  and  the  achievements  of  wisdom,  and 
wit,  and  might,  and  the  infinite  maze  of  human  action,  from 
the  beginning  to  the  ending  of  the  world's  history, — what 
are  they  all,  under  the  providence  of  God,  but  so  many 
fleeting  and  broken  shadows,  cast  from  the  ever-varying 
postures  of  man's  restless  spirit?  They  are  all  in  time  and 
of  time,  and  with  time  shall  pass  away,  save  only  their  ac- 
cumulated results,  of  which  we  shall  have  to  speak  hereafter. 

*  2  St.  Pet.  iii.  10. 


110  OBEDIENCE  THE  ONLY  REALITY.  [Serm. 

Such,  for  instance,  were  the  empires  of  Nimrod  and  Nebu- 
chadnezzar, of  Persia  and  Greece  ;  or  let  us  take,  as  an 
example,  the  great  empire  of  Rome.  For  well  nigh  two 
thousand  years  what  a  sleepless  movement  of  human  life 
swarmed  round  that  wonderful  centre  of  the  world  !  how  it 
expanded  itself  from  a  point  to  be  the  girdle  of  the  whole 
earth  !  how  that  same  teeming  power  of  thought  and  action 
wrought  itself  inwardly  into  a  wondrous  polity  of  ordered 
and  civilised  life,  and  outwardly,  through  fleets  and  legions, 
into  an  irresistible  force,  breaking  in  pieces,  and  fusing,  and 
recasting  the  world  into  its  own  mould  !  And  so  it  wrought 
on  from  century  to  century,  as  if  it  would  never  wax  old ; 
and  men,  from  this,  were  beguiled  to  call  it  the  Eternal  City. 
And  it  bid  fair  to  be  coeval  with  the  world.  And  yet  of 
all  that  majestic  phenomenon,  what  shall  remain  when  the 
fashion  of  this  world  hath  passed  away,  but  the  isolated 
individual  souls  which  in  this  world  were  lost  in  its  mighty 
life  ?  The  whole  is  gone  b3s  like  a  stately  and  stupendous 
pageant,  and  its  mighty  frame  resolved  again  into  its  origi- 
nal dust.  Nothing  survives  but  the  mass  of  human  life; 
and  that  not  blended  as  before,  but  each  one  as  several  and 
apart  as  if  none  lived  before  God  but  he  only.  And  so  of 
all  the  course  and  histor}'^  of  the  world  ;  all  is  either  past 
or  passing  away  ;  nothing  remains  but  the  record  of  human 
life  in  the  book  of  the  Eternal,  and  the  stream  of  undying 
spirits  which  is  ever  issuing  from  among  us  into  the  world 
unseen.  And  thus  it  is  that  all  that  is  real  in  the  world  is 
ever  passing  out  of  it ;  tarrying  for  a  while  in  the  midst  of 
shadows  and  reflections,  and  then,  as  it  were,  melting  out 
of  sight. 

2.  Again ;  as  the  only  reality  in  the  world  is  man,  so 
the  only  reality  in  man  is  his  spiritual  life.  By  this  I  do 
not  exclude  his  animal  being,  but  expressly  included  it,  as 


X.]  OBEDIENCE  THE  ONLY  REALITY.  HJ 

the  less  is  included  in  the  greater.  In  like  manner  as,  when 
we  speak  of  a  spiritual  body,  we  mean  not  a  spirit  only, 
but  a  body  under  the  conditions  of  the  spirit ;  so  by  the 
spiritual  life  is  meant  the  living  man  made  new  by  the 
power  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  Before  his  regeneration  through 
the  Spirit,  he  was  dead  in  the  flesh ;  he  was  a  part  of  this 
dying  world,  which  is  ever  passing  away  ;  unknown  changes 
awaited  him  ;  and  after  the  last  visible  change,  there  was 
no  destiny  revealed.  We  know  not  all  that  the  doom, 
"  Thou  shalt  surely  die,"  may  mean  in  the  state  of  the 
dead.  But  the  regenerate  man  is  translated  from  death  to 
life  ;  he  is  made  partaker  of  immortality  and  is  again  eternal. 
I  am  speaking,  then,  of  that  spiritual  life  which  is  in  all  that 
are  born  again ;  and  I  say  that  this  alone  is  intrinsically 
eternal,  forasmuch  as  it  is  an  awful  gift  of  the  Divine  Pres- 
ence, and  is  the  one  only,  true,  and  abiding  reality. 

Now  the  truth  of  this  will  be  made  to  appear,  if  we 
consider  the  following  points.  First,  that  of  what  is  called 
the  life  of  man — that  is,  of  his  living  acts  and  energies — the 
greatest  part  is  altogether  separable  from  his  spiritual  life, 
and  is  therefore  altogether  transient  and  perishing:  such, 
for  instance,  as  all  his  endless,  ever-returning  toil  for  the 
sustentation  of  this  bodily  life ;  all  the  homage  which  we 
are  compelled  to  pay  to  the  conditions  of  our  earthly  state, 
and  the  wants  of  our  fallen  manhood.  It  matters  not  what 
is  the  particular  form  of  all  this  toihng :  whether  a  man  be 
a  tiller  of  the  earth,  or  a  keeper  of  flocks,  or  a  merchant,  or 
a  pleader,  or  an  orator,  or  a  maker  of  laws,  he  is  laboriously 
serving  the  necessities  of  our  earthly  condition  ;  and  though 
a  faithful  man  may  turn  any  or  all  of  these  callings  into  a 
service  of  spiritual  obedience,  yet  they  may  be,  each  one, 
and  are,  for  the  most  part,  all  of  them,  fulfilled  without  a 
thought  of  the  inner  life,  by  the  almost  mechanical  powers 


,J^ 


112  OBEDIENCE  THE  ONLY  REALITY.  [Seru. 

of  the  reason  and  the  will.  Now  all  this,  which  makes  up 
the  greatest  portion  of  the  life  of  most  men,  is  little  better 
than  mere  contact  with  this  perishing  world.  Except  when 
incorporated  with  the  spiritual  life,  it  has  no  admixture  of 
permanence,  and,  in  the  sense  we  have  defined,  of  reality. 
It  is  a  mere  shadow,  transient  and  fleeting.  All  the  sweat 
of  the  brow,  all  the  bold  enterprises,  all  the  skilful  address, 
all  the  kindling  oratory,  all  the  science  of  government,  and 
all  the  toil  by  which  these  were  earned,  and  all  the  wealth 
or  greatness  by  which  they  are  waited  on — where  are  they 
all  when  a  man  comes  to  die,  or  when  he  must  fall  down 
before  God  to  confess  a  sin?  They  are  as  utterly  abolished 
as  if  they  were  all  acted  in  a  masque,  or  done  in  a  former 
life.  How  strangely,  how  awfully  external  and  unreal  do 
all  these  things  appear,  when  we  are  on  our  knees  beneath 
the  Eternal  Eye ! 

And  so,  again,  to  take  another  instance  :  even  that  which 
seems  above  all  to  enter  into  the  very  deep  of  our  spiritual 
life — I  mean  the  cultivation  of  mind,  refinement,  the  excite- 
ment of  intellectual  powers,  the  acquirement  of  learning  and 
science,  which  things  seem  to  us  to  give  the  distinguishing 
mould  and  cast  to  the  characters  of  men — how  altogether 
separable  are  these  things  also  from  the  spiritual  being ! 
They  are  often  found  "in  men  of  the  unholiest  passions. 
Railing  scoffers,  impure  sensualists,  men  in  whom  the  spir- 
itual life  seems  absolutely  quenched,  oftentimes  far  more 
largely  possess  these  manifold  gifts  of  our  intellectual 
nature  than  the  most  devoted  of  God's  servants.  They  are 
but  partial  developments  of  our  reasonable  life ;  altogether 
unsanctified ;  in  no  way  related  to  the  spiritual  being ; 
earthly,  and  therefore  but  shadows  of  the  eternal  gifts  of 
the  hallowed  and  illuminated  reason.  Now  most  men  of 
learning  and  self-cultivation,  if  they  would  but  look  closely 


X.]  OBEDIENCE  THE  ONLY  REALITY.  113 

and  truly  into  themselves,  would  be  awe-struck  to  see  how 
little  unity  there  is  between  their  intellectual  and  their 
spiritual  powers  5  how  unreal  is  all  they  are  living  in,  and, 
unless  taken  up  into  the  spiritual  life,  and  thereby  conse- 
crated, how  hollow  and  perishable  is  all  the  toil  and  fret  of 
their  daily  labor.  If  any  proof  of  this  were  wanting,  we 
need  only  see  such  men  in  times  of  sorrow  or  fear,  anxiety 
or  pain — above  all,  in  a  season  of  death.  It  seems  then  as 
if  all  but  a  tithe  of  their  whole  being  were  suddenly  abol- 
ished ;  all  their  powers,  and  energies,  and  acquirements, 
are  as  remote  and  alien  from  their  present  needs,  as  so  many 
broad  acres,  or  stately  houses,  or  costly  retinues.  They  all 
alike  seem  splendid  unrealities,  which  have  done  little  more 
than  dazzle  and  draw  off  the  eyes  of  the  inner  spirit  from 
that  which  alone  is  eternal. 

And,  besides  this,  remember  that  nothing  of  all  we  have 
and  are  in  this  world,  save  only  our  spiritual  life,  and  that 
which  is  impressed  upon  it  and  blended  with  it,  shall  we 
carry  into  the  world  unseen.  Even  as  we  said  of  this 
world's  entangled  history,  so  is  it  of  the  life  of  each  several 
man.  Though  all  things  shall  be  remembered  in  the  judg- 
ment, and  though  all  that  he  has  ever  done  or  spoken  shall 
have  left  some  stamp  for  good  or  ill  upon  his  immortal 
spirit,  yet  what  a  putting  off  of  this  lower  life  shall  there  be 
at  that  day !  "  Every  man's  work  shall  be  made  manifest ; 
for  the  day  shall  declare  it,  because  it  shall  be  revealed  by 
fire;  and  the  fire  shall  try  every  man's  work,  of  what  sort 
it  is.  If  any  man's  work  abide,  which  he  hath  built  there- 
upon, he  shall  receive  a  reward.  If  any  man's  work  shall 
be  burned,  he  shall  suffer  loss;  but  he  himself  shall  be 
saved,  yet  so  as  by  fire."*  Of  all  the  unnumbered  goings 
on  of  this  busy  life,  of  all  its  deeds,  and  achievements,  and 

•  1  Cor.  iik  13,  14,  1.x 
vol.  I.-8. 


<'h, 


114  OBEDIENCE  THE  ONLY  REALITY.  [Serb. 

possessions,  how  small  a  remainder  shall  be  found  after  that 
fiery  trial  has  done  its  work !  how  shall  the  "  wood,  hay, 
and  stubble,"  and  all  the  unrealities  of  act,  and  word,  and 
thought,  and  self-persuasion,  and  empty  imagination,  and 
conventional  formalities,  and  personal  observances,  be 
burned  up ;  and  nothing  abide  that  searching  test  but  the 
powers  of  our  spiritual  life  !  Of  all  the  regenerate  to  whom 
that  high  gift  was  given,  none  shall  pass  through  that 
piercing  trial  into  God's  kingdom  but  only  they  in  whom 
there  shall  be  found  a  will  obedient  to  the  will  of  God. 
They  that  have  held  a  regenerate  nature  in  disobedience 
are  condemned  already  with  the  world,  and  must  perish 
with  the  world — "  for  the  world  passeth  away,  and  the  lust 
thereof;  but  he  that  doeth  the  will  of  God  abideth  for  ever." 

From  what  has  been  said,  let  this  one  broad  inference 
suffice,  that  the  aim  of  our  life  ought  to  be  to  partake  of 
this  eternal  obedience.  Nothing  else  is  worth  our  living 
for.  We  have  been  each  one  of  us  born  again.  Obedient 
or  disobedient  we  must  be,  real  or  unreal,  imperishable  or 
perishing. 

And  therefore  our  first  care  must  needs  be,  to  watch 
against  whatsoever  may  turn  the  obedience  of  our  will 
away  from  God.  Of  the  commission  of  actual  sin  I  need 
say  nothing ;  I  am  speaking  only  of  those  in  whom  the 
regenerate  will  so  far  prevails  as  to  make  them,  in  the 
main,  obey  the  will  of  God.  The  temptations  which  keep 
alive  the  disobedience  of  the  will  are  such  as  these ;  strong 
desires  after  any  aim  in  life,  worldly  foresight,  long-drawn 
schemes  of  action,  over-carefulness  in  the  work  of  our 
calling,  the  indulgence  of  choosing  and  wishing  for  the 
future,  a  soft  life,  love  of  ease,  and  the  like:  now  all  these 
strengthen  the  action  of  our  own  will,  and  make  us  impatient 
of  a  cross.     If  events  fall  out  otherwise  than  we  desire,  we 


X.]  OBEDIENCE  THE  ONLY  REALITY.  115 

grow  restless  and  repining;  or  if  we  do  not  carry  ourselves 
in  open  variance  to  the  will  of  God,  we  submit  with  sullen- 
ness  and  a  chafing  heart.  All  this  is  because  we  have 
willed  things  in  some  other  way ;  we  have  been  forecasting, 
and  taking  council  of  our  own  wishes,  and  measuring  things 
by  their  supposed  bearing  upon  ourselves ;  and  our  will 
has  become  so  imperious  in  its  choice,  that  we  forget  the 
sovereignty  of  God  in  His  own  world.  We  are  all  tempted 
to  this  fault  by  nature  ;  and  even  after  we  have  so  far 
yielded  ourselves  as  to  obey  His  laws  in  the  main  tenor  of 
our  life,  there  lingers  behind  a  strong  root  of  spiritual 
disobedience  in  the  heart;  and  we  are  ever  exciting  and 
stimulating  it  in  secret.  Our  calling  in  life  presents  a 
thousand  subtil  provocations  to  awaken  and  sustain  the 
independent  life  of  our  will.  And  this  explains  our  bitter 
disappointments,  immoderate  griefs,  irritable  tempers,  jeal- 
ous feelings.  We  have  been  imposing  laws  on  the  course 
of  our  destinies,  taking  the  rule  of  God's  kingdom  out  of 
His  hands,  and  surroundins;  ourselves  with  an  unreal  world 
of  hopes,  and  fears,  and  choices,  yearnings  of  our  own  ; 
and  God  has  touched  it  with  His  hand,  and  it  has  started 
asunder  and  crumbled  away.  These  states  of  our  interior 
life  are  very  insidious.  There  is  perhaps  hardly  any  man 
who  is  so  wholly  free  from  them,  as  to  be  altogether  real 
and  simple.  For  the  most  part,  men  choose,  in  thought, 
what  they  like  best,  and  then  will  that  it  should  come  to 
pass,  and  next  persuade  themselves  that  it  is  to  be  so,  and 
live  in  the  persuasion,  and  "  walk  in  a  vain  shadow,  and 
disquiet  themselves  in  vain."  They  are  out  of  harmony 
with  the  movements  of  the  Divine  will,  and  become  hollow 
and  visionary.  And  that,  too,  in  the  most  commonplace 
manner  of  life.  The  most  unimaginative,  unpoetical, 
matter-of-fact   men   are  often  just  as  unreal   as   the  most 


116  OBEDIENCE  THE  ONLY  REALITY.  [Serm. 

heated  and  romantic — only  in  another  way;  as,  for  instance, 
they  wear  out  a  whole  hfe  with  a  concentration  of  every 
thought,  which  is  awful  and  saddening,  in  straining  after 
some  object — such  as  high  place,  or  great  wealth,  or 
hereditary  name,  which  for  them  is  as  remote  and  unreal 
as  the  philosopher's  stone,  or  the  elixir  of  life.  In  truth, 
whatsoever  lies  on  either  side  of  the  lines,  or  beyond  the 
limits,  which  the  will  of  God  has  drawn  about  our  lot  in 
this  world,  is  for  us  as  if  it  did  not  exist ;  and  all  our 
thoughts,  aims,  hankerings,  and  toil  after  it,  are  mere 
unrealtites,  and  must  come  to  nothing.  Most  certain  it  is, 
that  in  every  man  there  will  be  found  a  large  admixture 
of  this  labor  in  vain  ;  and  perhaps  the  largest  measure  of 
our  earnestness,  and  energy,  and  of  the  powers  of  life,  are 
simply  thrown  away.  Now,  the  first  check  upon  this  is,  to 
understand  what  God  wills  us  to  be ;  and  then  to  abandon 
every  thing  else,  as  if  it  did  not  so  much  as  exist  in  the 
world.  What  we  are,  is  a  revelation  of  His  will  towards 
us.  Our  lot  is  a  reality ;  the  works  of  our  calling,  so  long  as 
they  are  done  as  a  service  of  obedience,  are  real.  Within 
these  bounds  there  is  nothing  which  does  not  bear  upon 
eternity. 

And  this  teaches  us  that  we  must  do  more  than  only 
watch  against  the  allurements  of  our  own  will.  Obedience 
to  the  will  of  God  is  a  work  of  direct  and  simple  conscious- 
ness. It  is  to  be  wrought  in  us  by  its  own  self-confirming 
power.  It  is  by  doing  the  will  of  God ;  by  recognising  it 
in  all  the  changes  of  life  ;  by  reading  the  expression  of  the 
Divine  mind  in  the  course  of  this  troubled  world;  by  bow- 
ing ourselves  down  before  it,  under  whatsoever  guise  it  may 
reveal  itself;  by  j'ielding  ourselves  in  gladness  of  mind 
both  to  do  and  suffer  it,  counting  it  a  holy  discipline  and 
a  loving  correction  of  our  own  wilfulness,  and  by  praying 


X.]  OBEDIENCE  THE  ONLY  REALITY.  117 

Him  never  to  slay  His  hand  till  ihe  power  and  will  of  self 
be  abolished  from  our  regenerate  being ; — by  these  means 
it  is  that  we  are  changed  from  the  shadows  of  a  fleeting 
life  to  the  abiding  realities  of  the  eternal  world,  being  made 
partakers  of  the  will  of  God. 

But  to  such  a  life  of  submission  much  self-discipline  is 
needed.  We  cannot  pass  to  it  at  once,  but  approach  it  only 
by  the  laws  of  a  slow-advancing  growth.  These  are  days 
very  adverse  to  the  subjugation  of  the  individual  w^ill.  They 
are  too  external  and  stimulating.  Even  our  religious  life 
is  drawn  into  the  whirl  and  fever  of  an  endless  activity. 
But  in  the  service  of  God  there  must  be  something  behind 
a  life  of  action  ;  there  must  be  the  stationary  energies  of  a 
devout  spirit.  Our  life  is  too  continually  outward,  and  vis- 
ible, and  pent  up  in  the  throng  of  men.  We  are  not  enough 
at  large  and  alone  with  God.  And  hence  it  strangely  comes 
to  pass,  that  we  deem  visible  things  to  be  real,  and  invisible 
things  to  be  imaginary ;  we  look  upon  the  kingdoms  of  the 
earth  and  worldly  powers,  and  the  acts  of  law  and  legisla- 
tion, and  the  business  of  traders  and  merchants,  as  realities  ; 
but  the  Church  and  the  priesthood,  and  offices  of  worship, 
and  daily  homage,  and  chants,  and  the  offering  of  eucha- 
rists,  and  a  life  of  contemplation,  as  economies  and  shadows. 
And  yet  these  alone  are  the  shrine  of  an  abiding  life.  This 
pompous,  wise,  stately  world  must  have  its  day,  and  then 
be  dissolved,  "  as  a  dream  when  one  awaketh."  We  live 
in  the  midst  of  it,  till  it  bewilders  and  stuns  us,  and  we  do 
it  homage  ;  and  when  we  turn  from  it  to  unseen  things,  they 
are  too  subtil  and  too  pure  for  our  deadened  sense.  There 
is  no  cure  for  this,  but  to  be  more  alone  with  God.  Solitude 
and  silence  are  full  of  reality.  We  must  draw  more  into 
our  own  hearts,  and  converse  more  with  him.  Never  do 
we  so  put  off  the  paint  and  masquerade  of  life,  as  when  we 


^ 


118  OBEDIENCE  THE  ONLY  REALITY.  [Serm. 

are  alone  under  the  Eye  which  seeth  in  secret.  A  man 
must  be  either  very  bold,  or  very  blind,  that  will  there  still 
keep  up  the  play  and  artifice  of  his  common  bearing.  I  do 
not  speak  of  hypocrites.  There  is  no  man  that  is  not  in  some 
measure  twofold  ;  and  that  simply  because  there  is  no  man 
who  is  willing  to  be  known  by  his  fellow-men  as  he  knows 
himself,  and  as  none  knows  him  beside,  but  God  only.  We 
see  only  a  part  of  each  other,  but  God  sees  all.  Our  partial 
view  is,  if  not  mingled  with  untruth,  yet  misleading,  because 
imperfect ;  we  know  only  half  the  riddle,  and  we  are  led 
astray  in  guessing  at  the  rest.  But  "  all  things  are  naked 
and  opened  unto  the  eyes  of  Him  with  whom  we  have  to 
do."  Our  very  helplessness  makes  us  real.  His  eye  holds 
in  check  the  duplicities  of  our  being  ;  and  by  the  habitual 
restraints  of  solitude  with  God  they  are  weakened  and  over- 
come. In  the  world,  all  day  long,  there  is  an  influence 
playing  upon  us,  which  draws  our  characters  to  the  surface, 
and  there  fixes  them,  leaving  our  hearts  hollow  and  inac- 
tive. The  works  of  our  calling,  even  the  most  sacred  offices, 
have  a  tendency  to  become  an  unconscious  facility,  and  to 
sever  themselves  from  the  powers  of  the  will.  The  next 
move  is,  to  withdraw  themselves  from  the  region  of  the  con- 
science. Now,  nothing  but  self-discipline  in  secret  can 
keep  up  the  integrity  of  our  whole  nature.  And  the  more 
difficult  this  is,  by  reason  of  a  man's  overburdened  life  of 
daily  business,  the  more  absolutely  needful  is  it  for  his 
safety.  Fearful  thought !  we  were  born  alone,  and  alone 
we  must  die  ;  and  yet  through  all  our  life,  we,  as  it  were, 
flee  from  loneliness,  which  is  alike  the  beginning  and  the 
ending  of  our  earthly  transit !  Does  not  this  seem  to  say 
that  we  are  never  at  ease,  but  when  we  can  lose  the  con- 
sciousness of  what  we  are  ?  All  that  we  can  do,  when  we 
find  ourselves  grown  artificial  and  excited,  is  to  go  apart, 


X.]  OBEDIENCE  THE  ONLY  REALITY.  119 

where  none  but  God  sees  us,  and  fall  down  as  dust  and 
nothingness  before  Him,  and  plead  with  Him  against  our- 
selves, and  pray  Him  to  abolish  in  us  all  that  is  not  real  and 
eternal. 

We  have  the  more  need  of  this  sacred  discipline  of  self, 
because  we  have  few  aids  and  helps  of  a  secondary  sort. 
They  are  not  many  who  have  the  blessing  of  being  subject 
to  any  proximate  superior  ;  to  any  rule  out  of  themselves, 
by  which  the  detail  of  their  life  is  ordered.  More  is  thereby 
thrown  upon  the  energy  of  the  individual  will.  The  need 
of  some  imposed  discipline,  which  shall  bear  upon  the  act- 
ings of  our  inner  nature,  is  wonderfully  attested  by  the  yearn- 
ings of  thoughtful  men  at  this  time  :  on  every  side  we  hear 
them  painfully  striving  to  free  themselves  from  the  bondage 
of  unmeaning  and  artificial  habits,  and  to  find  some  basis 
on  which  they  may  rest  the  full  weight  of  their  living  powers. 
This  has  grown  upon  them,  more  and  more,  ever  since  the 
current  of  the  world  turned  aside  from  the  path  of  the 
Catholic  Church.  The  more  energetic,  dominant,  and 
mighty,  the  more  learned,  toilsome,  and  self-trusting  it  has 
become,  the  more  hollow  is  it  and  untrue.  "  The  world 
passeth  away,  and  the  lust  thereof."  It  is  confounded  at 
its  own  perpetual  changes  :  it  sees  that  none  of  its  schemes 
abide  ;  that  it  daily  grows  more  weary  of  toiling,  and  more 
transient  in  its  toils.  And  why,  but  because  it  has  divorced 
itself  from  the  Church  of  the  living  God,  and  is  resolving 
again  into  the  incoherencies  of  its  fallen  state  ?  All  men 
are  conscious  of  this  :  even  they  that  cannot  explain  the 
cause.  They  feel,  when  they  are  busied  in  the  world,  that 
there  is  something  empty,  something  which  mocks  and  wea- 
ries them  :  they  feel  that  the  leaning  of  all  their  worldly  toil 
is  away  from  God  ;  that  they  are  moving  in  another  direc- 
tion ;  that  their  returns  to  him  are  by  a  sensible  effort,  and, 


120  OBEDIENCE  THE  ONLY  REALITY.  [Sekw. 

as  it  were,  against  a  stream.  They  feel,  too,  that  their  daily 
life  is  a  hindrance  to  a  life  of  devotion.  It  is  distracting  and 
importunate ;  it  exacts  too  much  service,  and  repays  with 
a  perpetual  weariness.  All  the  day  long  they  are  conscious 
that  they  have  fallen  under  the  dominion  of  a  power  which 
is  not  at  one  with  God.  They  crave  after  something  through 
which  they  may  submit  themselves  to  the  realities  of  the 
eternal  world.  And  for  this  end  v/as  the  visible  Church 
ordained.  To  meet  the  yearnings  of  our  bajOEled  hearts,  it 
stands  in  the  earth  as  a  symbol  of  the  Everlasting  ;  under 
the  veil  of  its  material  sacraments  are  the  powers  of  an  end- 
less life  ;  its  unity  and  its  order  are  the  expressions  of 
heavenly  things ;  its  worship,  of  an  eternal  homage. 
Blessed  are  they  that  dwell  within  its  hallowed  precinct, 
shielded  from  the  lures  and  spells  of  the  world,  living  in 
plainness,  even  in  poverty  ;  hid  from  the  gaze  of  men,  in 
solitude  and  silence  walking  with  God. 


SERMON  XI. 


THE  LIFE  OP  CHRIST  THE  ONLY  TRUE  DEA  OF  SELF-DEVOTION. 


Philippians  ii.  21. 

"  All  seek  their  own,  not  the  things  which  are  Jesus  Christ's." 

There  is  something  peculiarly  touching  in  the  saddened 
tone  of  these  few  words,  in  which  St.  Paul  glances  at  the 
slackness  of  his  fellow-laborers.  It  must  have  been  a  cross 
almost  too  heavy  to  bear  without  complaining,  when  from 
his  prison-house  at  Rome  he  saw  his  brethren  in  Christ 
drawing  off,  one  by  one,  from  the  hardness  of  their  Master's 
service.  It  must  have  been  a  provocation  almost  beyond 
endurance  to  see,  day  by  day,  tokens  of  a  faint  heart  and  a 
selfish  purpose  coming  out  in  the  words  and  acts  of  those 
on  whom  he  most  depended.  It  added  to  his  bondage  the 
worst  form  of  desolation — the  loneliness  of  a  high,  unbroken 
spirit  in  the  throng  of  shrinking  and  inconstant  men.  He 
had  before  now  seen,  in  faithless  and  fearful  Christians, 
open  apostacy  and  undisguised  abandonment  of  Christ  and 
His  Gospel.  But  keenly  as  that  must  have  entered  into 
his  soul,  he  had  in  this  to  endure  a  still  sharper  trial.  It 
was  this  that  pierced  him  to  the  quick :  for  they  of  whom 


122  THE  LIFE  OF  CHRIST  THE  ONLY  [Serm. 

he  here  writes  were  not  open  apostates.  They  were  not 
men  who  fell  from  the  body  of  the  Church,  and  were  sev- 
ered wholly  from  his  fellowship  ;  but  men  openly  professing 
faith  in  Christ,  keeping  up  with  him  the  same  outward  rela- 
tion as  partakers  in  the  same  labor  of  love,  and  yet  failing 
him  in  the  moment  of  danger,  in  the  very  pinch  of  severe 
trial.  Such,  for  instance,  was  Demas  ;  who  is  often,  but  by 
mistake,  supposed  to  have  been  an  apostate  from  the  faith  : 
he  did  not  renounce  his  Christianity,  but  fell  back  from  the 
hardships  of  an  apostle's  life.  "  Demas  hath  forsaken" — 
not  Christ  nor  the  Gospel — but  "  me,  having  loved  this 
present  world."*  He  had  no  like  zeal  or  self-devotion  with 
St.  Paul :  they  were  unequally  yoked  together.  Demas  was 
hurried,  beyond  his  own  choice,  into  dangers  and  toils  ;  he 
found  St.  Paul  a  perilous  companion ;  he  loved  the  Gos- 
pel, but  not  less  he  loved  his  own  life  and  ease ;  and 
he  fell  back  from  an  apostle's  standing,  to  be  an  ordinary 
Christian. 

This  is  probably  a  fair  example  of  what  St.  Paul 
intended,  when  he  told  the  Philippians,  that  he  must  needs 
detach  Timothy,  and  send  him  unto  them  ;  for  "  I  have 
no  man  like-minded,  who  will  naturally  care  for  your 
state  :  for  all  seek  their  own,  not  the  things  which  are  Jesus 
Christ's."  We  see,  then,  what  he  would  express.  It  was 
the  state  of  men  in  whom  the  first  fervors  of  conversion  had 
subsided.  In  an  hour  of  ready  zeal,  they  had  forsaken  all, 
and  undertaken  an  apostle's  work.  It  may  be  they  were, 
for  a  long  season,  forward  and  stedfast,  foregoing  much,  and 
enduring  more  ;  but  at  the  last  they  grew  weary  of  the  mo- 
notonous hardship  of  preaching  and  suffering.  And  first,  it 
may  be,  they  began  to  spare  themselves,  and  to  use  trifling 
evasions,  or  to  keep  unseasonable  silence,  and  secretly  to 

*  2  Tim.  iv.  10. 


XL]  TRUE  IDEA  OF  SELF-DEVOTION.  123 

long  for  their  discharge  from  a  service  now  grown  irksome. 
And  this  hidden  disloyalty  of  the  heart  showed  itself  in  low 
views  of  what  was  possible  in  Christ's  service,  and  in  over- 
rating difficulties,  in  discouraging  views,  in  untimely  objec- 
tions, and  in  expostulations  at  the  very  moment  of  action. 
In  some  of  these  ways  they  betrayed  the  disappointing 
truth,  that  self-regard  had  mastered  them,  and  that  love  of 
self  outweighed  their  love  of  Christ.  There  was  a  counter- 
attraction  overcoming  the  constraining  love  of  their  Lord. 
This,  then,  is  the  heart-sin  of  which  St.  Paul  writes:  it  is 
a  refined  selfishness,  so  plausibly  defended,  so  strongly  en- 
trenched in  reasonable  pleadings,  as  to  leave  him  no  more 
to  do  than  to  expostulate  and  to  be  silent ;  to  give  them  a 
fair  opening  to  do  high  service  for  their  Master ;  and  then 
to  pass  them  by,  and  choose  some  worthier  and  bolder  men. 

And  here  we  see  one  of  the  worst  antagonists  of  the 
Church  of  Christ — a  fair  profession  of  Christianity,  with  a 
predominant  regard  of  self  The  deepest  wounds  have 
been  given,  not  so  much  by  the  sword  of  persecution,  or  by 
the  grosser  forms  of  sin,  as  by  the  overmastering  powers  of 
self-regard.  Every  body  will  admit  that  this  is  true,  at  the 
first  hearing;  but  few  really  know  the  subtil  insinuations 
and  the  full  extent  of  this  spiritual  disease. 

The  peculiar  danger  of  this  fault  may  be  seen  by  the 
following  remarks : — 

1.  It  may  consist  with  all  that  the  Church  requires  of 
her  people  as  a  condition  to  communion  in  her  fullest  privi- 
leges. A  man  may  be  under  the  dominion  of  this  paralysing 
fault,  and  yet  really  live  in  many  ways  a  Christian  life.  A 
man  may  live  a  pure  life,  and  blameless ;  he  may  be  bene- 
volent, and  do  many  works  of  charity ;  he  may  be  very 
systematic  in  his  religious  duties ;  and  have  no  little  zeal  in 
works  of  a  directly  religious  character ;  and  yet,  after  all, 


124  THE  LIFE  OF  CHRIST  THE  ONLY  [Serm. 

it  shall  be  not  more  true  of  Demas  than  of  such  a  man,  that 
he  loves  this  present  world,  that  he  habitually  and  delibe- 
rately seeks  his  "  own,  and  not  the  things  that  are  Jesus 
Christ's."  For  all  the  tokens  of  Christian  life  that  I  have 
spoken  of,  fall  within  the  limit  at  which  a  man's  self-regard 
is  put  on  trial.  There  is  a  large  field  of  commonplace 
Christian  duty,  in  which  a  man  may  toil  without  so  much 
as  ever  once  becoming  aware  that  there  is  an  irreconcilable 
variance  between  a  governing  regard  to  his  own  interests, 
and  a  faithful  discharge  of  Christ's  service  ;  that  there  is  a 
clashing  point,  when  one  or  other  must  give  way.  A  very 
large  part  of  Christianity  is  directly  favorable  to  a  man's 
worldly  interests  ; — all  that  goes  to  the  establishing  of  a  fair 
reputation,  and  to  the  conciliation  of  good  will,  is  full  of  solid 
advantage ;  self-regard  and  self-respect  urgently  prescribe 
to  a  man  such  a  habit  of  life  as  shall  be  in  accordance  with 
the  outward  example  of  Christ's  true  servants. 

Nay,  even  more,  a  man's  own  happiness  is  advanced 
by  a  Christian  temper  of  mind  ;  and  thus  far  the  service  of 
Christ  is  oftentimes  one  of  the  chiefest  and  most  refined 
means  of  cherishing  himself.  Habits  of  devotional  thought, 
and  the  hopes  of  an  inheritance  in  light,  kindle  and  sustain 
his  interior  life  and  peace ;  and  in  this  way  he  makes  the 
service  of  Christ  minister  directly  to  the  self-regard  which 
governs  all  his  actions.  Like  education,  or  intellectual 
excitement,  and  other  refined  energies  of  the  reason  and 
moral  habit,  it  becomes  distinctly  subservient  to  his  pre- 
dominant aim. 

2.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  this  habit  of  mind,  while  it 
satisfies  the  external  demands  of  the  Church,  and  ministers 
to  our  inward  happiness,  absolutely  extinguishes  all  that 
ever  produced  any  great  work  in  Christ's  service.  It  stunts 
the  whole  spirit  at  the  standard  of  self;  and  makes  all  a 


XL]  TRUE  IDEA  OF  SELF-DEVOTION.  125 

man's  thoughts  and  powers  minister  and  submit  themselves 
to  his  own  aim  and  purpose.     It  makes  a  man  live  in  him- 
self and  for  himself,  and  bound  himself  about  by  his  own 
horizon.     He  will  be  devoted  and  earnest  just  so  far  as  he 
may  without  trenching  upon  the  comfort  of  his  own  life. 
He  will  pray,  and  fast,  and  give  alms,  and  witness  for  the 
truth,  just  so  far,  and  just  so  long,  as  shall  involve  him  in  no 
austerity,  or  weariness,  or  self-denial,  or  loss  of  popularity. 
All  that  goes  beyond  this  measure  will  be  to  him  excessive, 
unnecessary,  gratuitous  ;  the  boundaries  of  his  own  practice 
are  fixed,  he  believes,  at  the  ultimate  point,  and  so  become 
absolute ;  the  aims  which  rise  above  or  lie  beyond  his  prac- 
tice are  visionary  and  impossible.     Most  desirable,  he  will 
admit — and  would  to  God  we  lived  in  days  when  they  could 
be  accomplished — but  he  deliberately  thinks  that  times  are 
changed  ;  and  what  our  fathers  might  reasonably  do,  we 
may  as  reasonably  forbear.     They  did  great  works,  bore 
great  self-denials,  made  great  sacrifices ;  but  then  it  was 
the  custom  of  their  day — society  did  not  require  of  thern 
many  things  which  it  exacts  of  us.     And  who  would  set 
himself  against  society  ?      Who  would   affect   strangeness 
and  singularity?     Who  would  live  below  his  means  in  life, 
or  not  keep  pace  with  others  of  his  own  rank  and  standing? 
— No,  brethren ;  not  to  evangelize  mankind  would  such  a 
man  offend  the  fastidious  feelings  of  society,  or  break  the 
self-constituted  proprieties  of  a  perishing  world  ;  no,  not  for 
an  Apostle's  crown,  nor  for  the  love  of  Christ  his  Lord, 
would  such  a  man  say  to   himself.   No   change   of  times, 
customs,  or  conventional  rules,  can  absolve   me  from  the 
unchangeable  law  of  self-devotion.     No  such  man  would 
say  this,  and  act  upon  it.     He  stands  well  with  the  world  ; 
he  is  not  censured  by  the  Church  ; — what  more  is  necessary? 
Surely  for  him  it  must  be  gratuitous  and  ostentatious  to  take 


126  THE  LIFE  OF  CHRIST  THE  ONLY  [Serm. 

a  rule  and  standard  of  his  own  above  other  men.  Besides, 
it  would  offend  them  ;  it  would  be  a  rebuke  to  them  ;  it 
would  alienate  them  from  him,  and  neutralise  his  influence 
for  good  ;  a  man  forfeits  the  effect  of  good  example  by  going 
too  far. — So  men  tamper  with  the  edge  of  conscience,  and 
turn  its  keenness.  Even  they  that  have  higher  yearnings, 
and  pulses  that  beat  for  nobler  deeds,  sink  back  acquiesc- 
ingly  under  the  burdensome  traditions  of  our  easy  life. 
Little  by  little  their  sympathies  with  high  aspiring  minds 
are  blunted ;  every  thing  that  goes  beyond  their  own  habit 
is  over-much  ;  every  thing  that  would  by  consequence  break 
in  upon  some  part  of  their  blameless  easy  course  is  impos- 
sible. Oh,  none  are  so  hard  to  rouse  to  great  works  of  faith 
as  they.  If  we  should  plead  with  a  Magdalene  out  of  whom 
have  been  cast  seven  devils,  or  a  Peter  that  hath  thrice 
denied  his  Lord,  or  a  Paul  who  hath  made  havoc  of  the 
Church, ^ — there  is  material  for  a  substantive  and  vivid 
character,  there  is  energy  for  a  life  above  the  world.  Con- 
formed to  the  likeness  of  their  Lord,  the  examples  of  all 
living  men  are  no  more  to  them  than  the  gaudy  shifting 
clouds  of  an  evening  sky  ;  moving  along  the  path  of  the 
cross,  all  the  soft  and  silken  customs  of  life  are  as  threads 
of  idle  gossamer.  There  is  about  them  a  moral  weight,  and 
an  onward  force,  and  a  clear  definite  outline  of  character, 
before  which  every  thing  gives  way.  They  hurry  all  before 
them,  as  by  the  spell  of  absolute  dominion.  They  have 
about  them  a  dignity  borrowed  from  the  grandeur  of  the 
end  for  which  they  live.  Poverty  and  plainness,  solitude 
and  a  self-denying  life,  in  them  no  man  dares  despise  ;  nay, 
all  men  feel  that  these  harder  features  are  more  in  keeping 
with  the  loftiness  of  their  moral  choice,  than  the  nice  pro- 
prieties or  the  effeminate  exactness  of  the  world. 

And  yet,  is  it  not  most  true  that  such  characters  as  these 


XI.]  TRUE  IDEA  OF  SELF-DEVOTION.  127 

we  deem  rather  to  be  gazed  after  than  followed  ;  a.s  objects 
rather  to  admire  than  to  imitate  ?  Do  we  not  deal  with 
each  other,  ay  and  with  our  own  consciences,  as  if  the  de- 
votion of  the  Apostles  were  as  miraculous  as  the  casting  out 
of  devils  ?  Do  we  not  look  along  the  lines  of  holy  men,  who, 
through  the  darkest  ages  of  the  Church,  shine  with  un- 
earthly splendor,  and  speak  of  them  as  we  do  of  strange 
fires  which  move  on  no  discoverable  laws  ;  wild  and  eccen- 
tric lights,  of  most  commanding  grandeur,  but  perilous  to 
follow  ?  And  what  do  we  thereby  confess,  but  that  the 
divine  laws,  which  ordered  that  spiritual  world,  are  but 
feebly  felt  and  faintly  understood  by  us  ;  that  the  powers 
of  some  lower  system  have  absorbed  us  in  their  circuits ; 
and  that  we  are  hurried  along  by  some  inferior  forces,  which 
bear  us  visibly  away  from  their  luminous  paths  and  desti- 
nies, we  know  not  whither,  or  why? 

And  yet  the  reason  is  not  mysterious.  We  need  call 
up  no  seer  to  unravel  the  secret.  It  is  simply  this,  "  all 
seek  their  own,  and  not  the  things  that  are  Jesus  Christ's." 

1.  First  of  all ;  few  of  us  have  any  clear  view  of  Christ's 
service  projected  before  our  minds,  to  which  all  our  living 
powers  are  bent.  There  is  a  want  of  external  reality  in  all 
our  views  of  religion.  They  are  self-contemplative  and 
limited.  We  do  not  look  out  of  ourselves  to  Him.  The 
secret  of  that  stupendous  self-devotion  which  the  saints  of 
Christ  in  all  ages  have  manifested  in  the  world  is  simply 
this:  they  setup  the  life  of  Christ  their  Lord  before  them. 
They  believed  it  to  be  the  only  spiritual  reality  the  world 
ever  saw,  and  that  all  other  patterns  of  life  were  cheats  and 
shadows  ;  from  it  they  drew  all  maxims  and  rules  of  living  ; 
by  it  they  tried  all  customs  of  mankind  ;  what  combined 
with  it,  they  held  fast ;  what  clashed  with  it,  they  trampled 
under  foot ;  they  gazed  upon  it,  and  grew  towards  it ;  they 


128  THE  LIFE  OF  CHRIST  THE  ONLY  [Serm. 

fell  down  before  it  and  worshipped  it ;  and  when  they 
arose,  and  turned  from  it  upon  the  world,  they  knew  not 
that  they  reflected  its  borrowed  glory.  They  knew  not  why 
men  followed  them,  and  yet  shrunk  from  them ;  why  they 
resisted  them,  and  yet  gave  way  before  them  :  and  they 
were  troubled,  and  went  and  hid  themselves,  and  did  their 
works  in  secret,  and  bade  no  man  speak  of  them  ;  and  yet 
their  words  and  deeds  came  abroad,  and  kindled  others  to 
a  like  devotion. 

This,  then,  is  the  main  reason  why  in  these  days  we  see 
so  few  great  examples  of  bold  and  masculine  devotion.  Men 
have  lost  sight  of  the  living  type  of  self-sacrifice,  and  with 
that  type  they  have  lost  their  energy  of  will.  Lower  views 
insure  lesser  powers. 

2.  And  the  natural  consequence  of  this  must  be,  that  all 
the  customs  of  life,  the  habits  of  the  world,  the  particular 
traditions  of  family  and  individual  character,  and  all  the 
current  maxims  and  unwritten  laws  of  society,  maintain  so 
tyrannous  a  hold  even  over  good  minds  (for  of  such  only, 
not  of  the  coarsely  selfish,  or  the  grossly  self-indulgent,  am 
I  speaking),  that  high  and  generous  tempers  are  chilled  into 
inaction,  and  so  miserably  depressed  as  to  move  along  the 
dreary  level  of  an  over-circumspect  and  self-regarding  life. 
They  are  predestined  by  the  usurping  fatality  of  the  world 
to  grow  rich,  or  to  make  a  family,  or  to  perpetuate  a  fortune, 
or  to  spend  an  income  ostentatiously,  or  to  maintain  the 
laborious  courtesies  of  life ;  they  are  in  a  bondage  from 
which  there  is  no  escape.  Oh,  what  high  spirits  are 
dwarfed,  v/hat  heavenly  aspirations  are  beaten  back  to 
earth,  what  deep  yearnings  of  love  are  crushed  and  stifled, 
for  want  of  the  free  air  of  heaven,  and  the  bold  action  of  a 
devoted  life !  They  are  forced  to  seek  their  own,  until  a 
refined  selfishness  returns  upon  their  regenerate  nature  with 


XI.]  TRUE  IDEA  OF  SELF-DEVOTION.  129 

all  the  tainting,  stupifying  power  of  its  original  sin.  And 
they  grow  wary  and  over-prudent,  shrinking  within  the 
narrowest  lines,  always  on  the  safer  side,  hazarding  nothing, 
measuring  by  the  scale  of  their  own  feebleness  what  is  pos- 
sible to  be  done  for  Christ  in  His  own  kingdom.  And  thus 
the  glow  of  early  religion  is  chilled  down  into  the  torpor  of 
;ifter-life  :  and  next  come  isolating  forms  of  opinion  and 
practice,  even  in  religion  ;  and  over-development  of  pecu- 
liarities in  the  individual  character,  and  the  obscuration  of 
that  common  type  of  Christian  life  which  knits  men  insensi- 
bly in  one.  Hence,  too,  arise  schisms  of  sympathy  within 
the  Church;  and  disappointing  slackness,  even  in  good 
men  ;  jealousy  of  private  rights  in  things  most  sacred  ;  the 
reappearance  of  unequal  ranks  in  the  very  sanctuary  of 
God  ;  irregular  and  conflicting  schemes  of  well-doing,  even 
when  we  do  our  best ;  decline  of  missionary  zeal,  of  eucha- 
ristical  charity  ;  and,  as  a  consequence  of  all  this,  the  con- 
traction and  palsy  of  the  Church  itself.  Oh,  that  we  did 
but  know  the  freedom  and  happiness  of  a  life  above  the 
world  !  They  whose  names  are  splendid  with  the  most 
hallowed  light,  have  in  their  day  moved  along  all  paths  of 
life.  Among  the  saints  of  Christendom  are  men  of  toil  and 
trade,  the  craftsman,  and  the  merchant,  the  pleader,  the 
man  of  letters,  orators,  lawgivers,  warriors  and  leaders  of 
mighty  hosts,  princes,  and  queens,  and  emperors.  In  all 
ranks,  and  all  orbits  of  the  civil  state,  men  mortified  in  soul, 
as  St.  Paul,  have  lived  unto  Christ  their  Lord.  None  so 
fulfilled  the  offices  and  tasks  of  life  as  they — because  they 
were  above  them  all.  They  descended  to  them,  and  dis- 
charged them  with  an  ease  and  grace  which  nothing  but  an 
absolute  extinction  of  self  can  give.  None  so  wise,  so 
courteous,  so  beloved  as  they ;  none  richer  or  more  pros- 
perous ;    none   more  faithful  in   their   stewardship  of  this 

VOL.  I.— 9. 


130  THE  LIFE  OF  CHRIST  THE  ONLY,  ETC.       [Skrm.  XL 

world's  wealth  ;  none  bequeathed  costlier  heir-looms  to 
their  children's  children  :  and  that  because  they  sought  not 
their  own,  but  the  things  that  were  Jesus  Christ's.  Breth- 
ren, here  is  the  key  of  this  great  spiritual  parable  :  ask  ot 
God  the  mind  of  Jesus  Christ ;  for  "  He  pleased  not  Him- 
self." Learn  to  do,  to  give  up,  to  give  away,  as  He  did. 
Live  as  men  whose  "  life  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God." 
"  Let  your  conversation  be  in  heaven."  Try  every  thing, 
measure  every  thing,  check  every  thing,  by  the  governing 
law  of  Christ's  example.  Seek  first  what  is  His  :  and  He 
will  take  care  for  what  is  your  own. 


*-  « 


I 


SERMON  XII. 


THE  REWARDS  OF  THE  NEW  CREATION. 


St.  Matthew  xix.  27,  28,  29. 

"  Then  answered  Peter  and  said  unto  Him,  Behold,  we  have  forsaken 
all,  and  followed  Thee  :  what  shall  we  have  therefore  ?  And  Jesus 
said  unto  them.  Verily  I  say  unto  you.  That  ye  which  have  followed 
me,  in  the  regeneration  when  the  Son  of  man  shall  sit  in  the  throne 
of  His  glory,  ye  also  shall  sit  upon  twelve  thrones,  judging  the 
twelve  tribes  of  Israel.  And  every  one  that  hath  forsaken  houses, 
or  brethren,  or  sisters,  or  father,  or  mother,  or  wife,  or  children,  or 
lands,  for  my  name's  sake,  shall  receive  an  hundred-fold,  and  shall 
inherit  everlasting  life." 

In  these  words  we  have  a  most  gracious  promise  of  the  full 
and  sure  reward  with  which  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  will 
overpay  all  His  true  servants  in  the  kingdom  of  the  resur- 
rection. They  were  drawn  from  Him  by  the  shrinking 
back  of  the  rich  young  man  who  had  sought  to  enter  into 
the  kingdom  of  God.  He  had  so  lived  from  his  youth  up 
as  to  be  not  far  from  it ;  but  in  the  last  deciding  trial  he 
was  found  wanting.  One  thing  he  lacked,  and  that  one 
thing  was  in  what  we  should  call  his  characteristic  failing : 
he  was  rich,  and  he  could  not  forsake  all  for  Christ.     He 


132  REWARDS  OF  THE  NEW  CREATION.  [Serm. 

wanted  nerve  and  faith  enough  to  strike  through  the  last 
bond  which  bound  down  his  soul  to  earth  ;  and  this  one 
thing  wanting  lost  him  all  things.  St.  Peter  then,  who  was 
standing  by,  and  had  heard  and  seen  what  had  passed,  took 
occasion  to  say,  "  Lo,  we  have  left  all,  and  followed  Thee : 
what  shall  we  have  therefore?"  And  our  Lord  promised 
a  repayment,  an  overpayment,  an  hundred-fold  ;  and,  as  we 
read  in  St.  Mark,  He  said,  "  now  in  this  time  ;"*  and  in  St. 
Luke,  "  in  this  present  time,  and  in  the  world  to  come  ever- 
lasting life."t 

First  then,  our  Lord  meant  that  he  would  repay  them 
for  all  things  they  gave  up  for  His  sake  in  this  world,  after 
His  resurrection.  They  who  followed  Him  had  been  ga- 
thered out  from  Galilee  and  Judea,  from  Bethsaida  and 
Jerusalem,  one  by  one  ;  and  each  several  one  had  to  make 
the  same  deliberate  act  of  self-renunciation.  They  had  to 
forsake  all  that  earth  holds  dearest ;  not  traffic,  and  gain, 
and  ease  alone,  but  the  love  of  friends,  and  all  that  we 
gather  together  in  our  thoughts  of  home.  All  that  was 
once  fullest  of  life  became  to  them  as  dead  ;  all  in  the  life 
of  which  they  were  wont  to  live  was  thenceforth  as  if  it  had 
never  been :  their  choice  of  Christ  for  their  Lord,  and  His 
kingdom  for  their  portion,  was  a  sharp  and  severing  vow, 
which  left  them  solitary  in  the  throng  of  men  who  were 
their  friends  before. 

Such  they  made  themselves  for  His  sake  before  He 
suffered,  and  therefore  He  pledged  His  truth  to  them,  that 
they  should  find  again  what  they  had  lost  for  His  service, 
after  He  was  risen  from  the  dead.  And  He  chose  them  to 
be  the  patriarchs  of  the  "  Israel  of  God  ;"  they  were  made 
pastors  and  princes,  fathers  and  bishops,  ruling,  from  their 
apostolic  thrones,  the  twelve  mystical  tribes  of  God's  elect. 

*  St.  Mark  x.  30.  t  St.  Luke  xviii.  30. 


XII.]  REWARDS  OF  THE  NEW  CREATION.  133 

The  whole  Church  was  their  ghostly  family  :  they  had  sons, 
and  brethren,  and  sisters,  in  all  lands.  All  the  whole  earth 
was  their  home.  All  things  were  theirs,  for  "  they  had  all 
things  common."  So  was  His  word  fulfilled  in  the  com- 
munion of  saints.  Even  in  this  present  time  it  was  fulfilled, 
albeit  with  persecution  :  even  when  the  powers  of  hell  hung 
heaviest  upon  them,  and  shut  them  in  on  every  side,  who 
can  tell  the  hidden  joy,  the  unutterable  gladness  of  His  holy 
Church  ?  When  most  likened  in  suffering  to  the  passion  of 
their  Lord,  there  was,  ever  deep  and  full,  a  river  of  holy 
calm,  making  glad  the  city  of  God.  And  so  unto  this  day, 
His  most  sure  promise  has  had  a  like  fulfilment.  Never  any 
man  forsook  any  thing  for  his  Master's  sake  but  even  in  this 
life  he  hath  found  it  in  some  unlooked-for  compensation  ; 
not,  it  may  be,  alike  in  kind,  but  full  of  as  deep  a  joy.  The 
manifold  wisdom  of  His  eternal  love  attempers  to  His  ser- 
vants all  their  earthly  being.  Though  their  lot  be  most 
various,  and  most  adverse  to  their  self-choosing  hopes, 
though  it  be  ever  changing,  yet  in  every  change  it  brings 
out  some  unknown  and  larger  outline  of  ever-new  reward 
for  all  they  have  forsaken  in  His  service. 

But  there  is  yet  a  further  and  deeper  fulfilment  of  this 
promise  still  to  come. 

Our  Lord  intended  also,  that  He  would  reward  them  in 
His  kingdom,  after  their  own  resurrection  ;  that  is,  when 
the  number  of  the  regenerate  is  accomplished,  and  the  end 
is  come,  and  the  new  heaven  and  new  earth  are  revealed. 
"  In  the  regeneration"  or  restitution  of  all  things,  when  He 
"  shall  sit  on  the  throne  of  His  glory,"  then  shall  their 
reward  be  likewise  made  perfect.  At  that  day,  when  the 
heavenly  Jerusalem  shall  appear,  and  the  fellowship  of 
saints  be  gathered  from  the  four  winds  of  heaven,  in  that 
unnumbered  company,  shall  all  the  bonds  and  affections  of 


134  REWARDS  OF  THE  NEW  CREATION.  [Serm. 

all  holy  spirits  be  made  eternal,  and  they  shall  receive  an 
hundred-fold ;  brethren  and  sisters,  and  father  and  mother, 
and  wife  and  children.  What  is  here  given  in  part,  shall 
be  there  given  in  its  fulness ;  and  then  shall  be  perfected 
the  sympathy  of  all  members  of  Christ's  body  mystical, 
perpetuating  all  that  earth  has  known  of  purity,  and  trans- 
figuring all  that  is  eternal  with  surpassing  glory. 

We  see,  then,  in  this  promise,  these  great  laws  of 
Christ's  kingdom.  First,  that  there  shall  be  a  manifold  re- 
ward for  those  who  shall  in  any  way  forego  any  thing  for 
Christ's  sake,  for  all  they  do  or  suffer  for  His  name — a 
reward,  observe,  not  earned,  but  given ;  not  wages,  but  a 
free  gift.  Once  for  all,  let  this  be  said  :  there  is  no  con- 
nexion of  idea  between  our  meriting  and  His  rewarding. 
The  one  is  as  much  denied  as  the  other  is  promised  in  holy 
scripture.  And,  secondly,  that  there  shall  be  a  larger  and 
distinguishing  reward  for  those  that  have  forsaken  most  for 
His  service.  There  is  promised  in  holy  Writ,  "  the  bright- 
ness of  the  firmament,"  and  the  shining  "  as  the  stars  for 
ever  and  ever  ;"  there  is  "  the  righteous  man's  reward," 
and  "  the  prophet's  reward,"  there  is  a  "  right  hand"  and 
a  "left  hand"  in  His  kingdom.  Again  :  as  are  the  orders 
of  unseen  spirits,  so  are  the  orders  of  saints.  All  are  not 
angels,  nor  archangels,  nor  spirits  of  knowledge,  nor  spirits 
of  love  ;  nor  have  all  the  same  degree,  nor  the  same  heav- 
enly ministry,  nor  the  same  near  approach  to  the  Eternal 
throne  ;  and  so,  doubtless,  in  the  company  of  saints  :  as  on 
earth,  so  in  heaven,  there  shall  be  patriarchs,  prophets, 
apostles,  martyrs,  saints  of  all  measures  of  glory,  though  all 
shall  be  absolutely  blessed,  and  the  principle  or  order  shall 
be  doubtless  this  :  As  it  is  the  strength  and  energy  of  love 
to  Christ  that  makes  one  man  to  differ  from  another  here  in 
this  life,  so  the  same  shall  there  fix  the  rule  and  order  of 


XILJ  REWARDS  OF  THE  NEW  CREATION.  13,5 

His  kingdom.  As  some  men  are  now  holier,  so  shall  some 
be  then  more  glorious  ;  as  some  are  now  more  like  their 
Lord,  so  shall  some  be  then  nearer  to  Him  ;  all  shall  walk 
in  white,  but  some  shall  be  of  a  more  dazzling  splendor ; 
all  shall  be  crowned  with  gold,  but  some  shall  cast  brighter 
rays. 

Such  is  the  meaning  of  this  promise.  See,  then,  breth- 
ren, whether  you  have  a  share  in  it.  What  shall  they  have 
who  forego  nothing,  or  but  little  for  His  sake  ?  Must  we 
then,  in  any  sense,  measure  our  share  by  our  self-denials? 
This  would  be  a  fearful  issue  to  which  to  bring  our  confident 
hopes.  And  yet  it  is  most  true,  for  He  Himself  has  spoken 
it :  '•  If  any  man  come  to  me,  and  hate  not  his  father,  and 
mother,  and  wife,  and  children,  and  brethren,  and  sisters, 
yea  and  his  own  life  also,  he  cannot  be  my  disciple.  And 
whosoever  doth  not  bear  his  cross,  and  come  after  me,  can- 
not be  my  disciple."* 

Let  us  see,  then  : 

1.  First,  what  are  we  now  giving  up  for  His  sake  ;  what 
we  are  laying  up  in  the  kingdom  of  the  resurrection  ? 
Where  does  your  daily  life  exhibit  any  token  of  His  cross  ? 
How  should  we  be  different,  if  He  had  never  risen  from  the 
dead  ?  Take  away  all  that  is  exacted  of  us  by  fear  of  re- 
proof, or  interest,  or  love  of  reputation,  or  self-respect,  or 
the  customs  of  life,  and  the  established  order  of  our  home, 
and  the  rules  and  maxims  by  which  society  is  refined  ;  and 
then  what  one  thing  would  be  found  remaining?  How  dif- 
ferent is  the  self-same  act  in  two  different  men,  when  one 
man  acts  for  some  of  these  lower  motives,  and  the  other  for 
the  hope  of  the  resurrection  !  Be  not  content,  therefore, 
until  you  have  searched  out  and  found  that  the  aim  of  your 
heart  is  single  :  that  is  what  we  have  to  ascertain.     What 

•  St.  Luke  xiv.  26. 


136  REWARDS  OF  THE  NEW  CREATION.  [Serb. 

are  we  casting  on  the  water,  that  we  may  find  it  on  the 
river  of  life  ?  What  power  or  effect  has  the  kingdom  of  the 
resurrection  on  the  works  of  every  day  ;  on  that  thronging 
multitude  of  thoughts  and  feelings  and  moral  acts,  which 
shape  themselves,  as  the  will  inclines,  into  toil,  and  busi- 
ness, and  study,  and  pleasure,  and  ease,  and  prayer?  How 
are  these  affected  by  the  promise  of  our  Master?  What 
token  do  they  bear  which  bespeaks  a  yearning  hope  of  His 
exceeding  great  reward?  Do  not  our  hearts  witness 
against  themselves,  that  all  these  daily  actings  of  life  are 
chiefly  done  for  our  own  pleasure  or  gain  ?  It  is  very  hard 
to  unravel  motives — to  separate  the  interweaving  of  higher 
and  lower  purposes,  and  to  ascertain  in  w^hat  measure  they 
each  severally  determine  our  will  and  practice.  It  is  an 
ominous  thing  when  a  man's  interest  is  found  always  to  fall 
in  with  his  religion  ;  when  the  bias  of  bis  common  life  ex- 
actly coincides  with  his  better  aims  ;  when  the  many  things 
he  seems  to  do,  or  to  leave  undone,  for  Christ^s  sake,  would 
be  done  or  left  undone,  all  the  same,  for  other  reasons  ;  when 
the  doing  them  or  leaving  them  undone  always  turns  to  his 
advantage.  I  do  not  say,  that  he  must  therefore  be  neces- 
sarily acting  on  the  inferior  motive ;  far  from  it.  Such  is 
the  manifold  perfection  of  Christ's  service,  that  it  will  be 
found  to  take  up  into  itself  all  good  reasons  of  moral  action, 
and  always  to  be,  even  in  a  worldly  sense,  the  best,  safest, 
and  most  expedient  way  of  life.  But  we  have  need  to  ex- 
amine ourselves,  and  see  whether  the  lower  aims  of  our 
mind  be  not  the  more  fixed  and  steadier,  and  therefore  the 
real  and  dominant,  though  secret,  reason  of  our  habitual  line 
of  acting. 

And  next,  consider  in  what  you  may  forsake  something 
for  His  service.  I  do  not  speak  of  sins  which  if  a  man  do 
not  forsake,  be  shall  surely  die  in  them  ;  for  if  he  break  them 


XII.]  REWARDS  OF  THE  NEW  CREATION.  137 

off,  they  are  not  foregone  for  his  Lord's  sake,  but  for  his 
own.  An  horrible  dread  of  eternal  death,  and  the  gnawing 
of  a  selfish  fear,  make  men  first  break  off  their  sins.  But 
that  is  ndt  self-denial ;  nor  are  sins  the  matter  in  which  to 
show  the  enlireness  of  our  devotion. 

Nor,  again,  is  it  in  foregoing  the  needless  superfluities 
of  a  luxurious  life.  They  who  give  up  only  what  they  care 
not  to  retain,  make  but  poor  oblations.  Rich  and  easy 
people  seldom  reach  the  point  of  real  self-denial.  It  is  in 
things  lawful,  and,  as  the  world  deems,  necessary,  but,  in 
the  severe  judgment  of  a  devoted  mind,  tending  to  relax  the 
lone  of  our  obedience,  that  we  may  prove  the  singleness  of 
our  purpose.  For  instance,  in  things  harmless  in  them- 
selves, but  inexpedient  for  our  own  sake  or  for  others  ;  in 
narrowing  the  freedom  we  might  ourselves  enjoy,  lest  any 
other  for  whom  Christ  died  should  be  misled  by  our  ex- 
ample ;  in  leaving  unsaid  and  undone  many  things  which 
may  tend  to  irritation  or  questioning  in  uninstructed  or 
prejudiced  minds.  Moreover,  it  is  not  only  for  the  safety 
of  others,  but  of  ourselves,  that  we  must  needs  limit  our  use 
even  of  lawful  things.  He  is  in  great  peril  of  judgment 
who  never  foregoes  any  thing  that  he  might  lawfully  enjoy. 
He  that  lives  on  a  dubious  boundary-line,  trusting  his  own 
steadfastness,  is  ever  ready  to  slip  over  into  a  transgression. 
More  men  perish  by  exceeding  in  the  measure  of  lawful 
things  than  in  deliberate  commission  of  things  forbidden. 
It  is  a  perilous  footing  on  the  giddy  edge  of  a  precipice. 
Again  ;  a  man  may  deny  himself  in  things  held  by  the 
world  to  be  eligible  and  good,  such  as  by  custom  are  almost 
forced  upon  us,  and  in  themselves  are  full  of  promise,  and, 
it  may  be,  of  enjoyment,  and  yet  are  cumbrous,  and  hinder 
the  devoting  of  ourselves  to  Christ.  There  was  nothing  of 
evil  in  Martha's  life ;  but  Mary's  was  the  higher  and  more 


138  REWARDS  OF  THE  NEW  CREATION.  [Serm. 

hallowed.  Martha  was  careful  about  many  things,  yet  all 
these  things  were  innocent ;  Mary  about  only  one,  and  that 
alone  was  needful.  There  is  nothing  evil  in  the  possession 
of  lands  and  riches,  yet  they  bring  much  toil  of  heart,  and 
over-burdening  of  care.  They  defraud  a  man  of  much  of 
himself,  and  make  him  pay  tribute  of  more  than  half  of  all 
his  hopes,  and  fears,  and  thoughts,  and  hours  of  day  and 
night — ^half,  that  is,  of  his  whole  earthly  being  ;  and,  it  may 
be,  poverty  in  the  world  to  come,  as  the  cost  or  tax  at  which 
he  buys  the  trouble  of  being  rich.  The  very  thought  of 
being  contented  at  any  point  short  of  the  utmost  gain,  is  lost 
from  among  men.  They  have  no  horizon  to  their  aims  for 
this  world  ;  and  therefore  "  they  have  their  reward."  It  is 
a  poor,  palpable,  proximate  reward  here  on  earth.  The 
aim  of  most  men  falls  short  and  terminates  in  something 
on  this  side  of  the  resurrection ;  some  phantasy  of  earthly 
happiness.  It  may  be,  then,  that  each  one  of  us  may  find 
something  which  he  may  forego  for  the  sake  of  the  world  to 
come  ;  some  possession,  or  purpose  of  life,  or  wish  of  heart ; 
some  of  the  permitted  self-indulgences  common  to  his  rank 
and  fortune  :  and  this  foregone  for  the  sake  of  living  a  hfe 
of  larger  charity,  or  of  more  abstracted  devotion,  that  is,  for 
the  sake  of  making  charity  or  devotion  the  great  and  govern- 
ing aim  of  the  whole  hfe,  and  all  other  things  as  means  and 
opportunities  to  it,  shall  not  be  forgotten  where  all  self- 
denials  are  remembered  :  and  so  shall  you  have  your  lot 
with  him  who  said,  "  Behold,  we  have  left  all  things;  what 
shall  we  have  therefore?" 

Remember,  then,  brethren,  that  in  all  these  acts  of 
self-restriction  there  must  be  the  sincere  intent  to  do  it  for 
Christ's  sake  ;  otherwise  our  acts  are  like  inarticulate 
sounds,  without  emphasis  or  meaning.  Many  men  seem  to 
live  a  mortified  hfe,  and,  as  far  as  mere  self-restraint,  really 


XII]  REWARDS  OF  THE  NEW  CREATION.  139 

do  so,  and  yet  not  for  Christ's  sake,  but  for  some  earthly 
end.  Doubtless  the  rich  young  man  denied  himself  for  his 
great  possessions.  None  forsake  and  forfeit  more  than 
"they  that  will  be  rich."  But  we  know  that  the  severest 
life  without  a  conscious  choice  is  less  than  the  least  acts  of 
self-impoverishment  with  a  clear  and  single  aim  of  foregoing  ^ 
something,  that  we  may  find  it  in  His  kingdom.  Peter's 
worldly  all  was  a  boat  and  a  net ;  and  the  alabaster  box  of 
ointment  had  a  great  testimony  of  acceptance,  because  she 
had  "done  what  she  could."  They  are  oftentimes  the  little 
ministeries  of  love  that  show  most  devotion,  and  most  inti- 
mate resolution  of  heart.  And  remember  also,  that  having 
chosen  deliberately,  a  man  must  act  boldly,  not  looking 
back.  Half  our  difficulty  in  doing  any  thing  worthy  of  our 
high  calling,  is  the  shrinking  anticipation  of  its  possible 
after-consequences.  But  if  Peter  had  tarried,  and  cast  up 
all  that  was  to  come,  the  poverty,  and  wandering,  and 
solitude,  and  lonely  old  age,  the  outcast  life,  and  chance  of 
a  fearful  death,  it  may  be  he  would  have  been  neither  an 
Apostle  nor  a  Christian. 

And,  once  more ;  whereinsoever  you  resolve  to  forsake 
any  thing  for  Christ's  service,  bear  the  trial  patiently,  and 
wait  for  the  end.  There  must  be  some  irksomeness,  nay, 
some  galling  edge,  some  burden  in  our  yoke,  or  we  have 
need  to  look  well  lest  we  be  carrying  a  mere  mocking 
shadow  of  His  cross.  Be  not  afraid  though  your  life  be 
deemed  singular  and  solitary  ;  His  was  so  ;  and  theirs  who 
at  any  time  have  followed  Him,  each  in  his  way  and  kind, 
has  been  so  likewise.  When  He  promises  you  an  hundred- 
fold, be  not  content  with  thirty-fold,  nor  with  sixty-fold. 
You  would  be  happy  to  have  any  reward  in  His  blissful 
kingdom  ;  but  be  not  therefore  slack  in  striving  for  it. 
True,  He  does  not  offer  you  the  crowns  of  Apostles;  but 


140  REWARDS  OF  THE  NEW  CREATION.  [Serm.  XII. 

He  offers  you  more  than  you  can  ask  or  think,  more  than 
we  are  ever  reaching  after.  Every  day  we  might  attain 
we  know  not  what ;  every  day,  it  may  be,  loses  or  wins 
something  of  the  brightness  of  the  resurrection.  All  we  do 
or  leave  undone  has  its  counterpart  in  the  unseen  world. 
And  what  then  is  life,  and  what  is  the  world,  to  that  day, 
when  the  Son  of  man  shall  sit  on  the  throne  of  His  glory? 

Forsake  all,  rather  than  forfeit  your  reward,  rather  than 
be  set  far  off  from  Him  when  He  cometh  in  to  order  the 
guests  that  are  bidden  to  the  marriage-supper  of  the  Lamb. 


SERMON  XIII. 


GOD'S  KINGDOM  INVISEBLK 


St.  Luke  xvii.  20,  21. 
"And  when  He  was  demanded  of  the  Pharisees  when  the  kingdom  of 
God  should  come,  He  answered  them  and  said,  The  kingdom  of  God 
Cometh  not  with  observation  ;  neither  shall  they  say,  Lo  here,  or,  lo 
there  !  for,  behold,  the  kingdom  of  God  is  within  you." 

The  state  of  the  Jews  at  that  time  aifords  to  the  Church  of 
Christ  an  awful  example  of  inward  blindness  in  the  full 
light  of  God's  revelation.  They  were  looking  out  for  the 
coming  of  Christ's  kingdom;  but  they  knew  not  for  what 
they  were  watching.  God  had  told  them  that  Messiah 
should  come  ;  but  they  had  formed  for  themselves  a  low 
and  earthly  idea  of  His  character  and  His  kingdom.  They 
verily  thought  that  He  would  make  His  entr}'^  among  them 
with  the  sound  of  the  trumpet  and  the  banners  of  the  tribe 
of  Judah;  with  the  pomp  of  kingly  splendor,  and  a  royal 
train  of  chariots  and  horses,  as  their  kings  of  old  came 
"  riding  through  the  gates  of  Jerusalem."  Doubtless  they 
thought  that  all  men  would  know  by  the  tokens  and  heralds, 
and  by  the  very  majesty  of  its  coming,  when  the  kingdom 
of  God  should  appear.     So  they  dreamed  and  wandered  in 


142  GOD'S  KINGDOM  INVISIBLE.  [Serm. 

the  blindness  of  their  hearts.     An  obstinate  prepossession 
had  filled  them  with  the  thoughts  and  images  of  earth,  and 
all  the  prophets  of  God  could  not  purge  this  film  from  their 
inward  sight.     They  looked  out  every  way  for  the  signs  of 
His  coming;  but  the   signs  they  looked  for  came  not ;  or 
came  and  spoke  other  things,  and  mocked  their  expectation, 
and  darkened  their  foolish  hearts  the  more,  and  lulled  them 
into  security,  at  the  time  when  of  a  truth  the  kingdom  of 
God  was  come  upon  them.     Before  so  much  as  a  stray 
thought  of  foreboding  arose  in  their  hearts,  whilst  their  eyes 
were  all  turned  another   way,  it  came  upon  them  like  a 
thief;  suddenly  and  in  silence  it  came,  no  man  seeing  it ; 
without  visible   token;  without  the  warning  of  a  prophet ; 
without  the  sound  of  a  footfall :  it  was  among  them,  and  the}"- 
knew  it  not ;  it  was  within  them,  and  they  knew  not  that  it 
was  of  God.     The   kingdom  came  in   the   coming  of  the 
King  Himself,  as  the  day  comes  in  the  sun's  rising.     While 
men  slept,  Christ  was  born  ;  a  poor  child,  and  unheeded  of 
men,  none  knew  of  His  coming  but  His  lowly  mother  and 
a  few  shepherds  :  to  the  rest  He  was  as  any  other  child ; 
as  one  of  the   many  who    are  born  in  sorrow,  and  die  in 
silence.     The  ten  thousands  of  Israel,  the  scribes  and  the 
Pharisees,  the  elders  and  the  chief  priests,  even  the  very 
courses  that  ministered  day  and  night  in  God's  temple,  were 
taken    in    the    snare.       God's    kingdom    was    above,    and 
around,  and  within  them  ;  it  embraced,  and  pervaded,  and 
searched  them  through  and  through  ;  and  they  knew  it  not. 
And  as  was  its  coming,  so  was  its  course.     He  grew  up 
at  Nazareth,  a  child  among  children,  obedient  to  His  pa- 
rents ;  though  His  mother  pondered   many  things  of  Him 
in  her  heart,  other  men  saw  in  Him  no  more  than  the  aspect 
and  the  actings  of  a  child.     Many  an  eye  beheld  Him  then 
which  shall  behold  Him  no  more.     Many  gazed  on  Him,  as 


XIII.]  GOD'S  KINGDOM  INVISIBLE.  143 

we  gaze  on  a  thoughtful  child,  and  saw  no  gleams  of  the 
mystery  which  lay  hid  within.  So,  too,  He  began  His  Fa- 
ther's work,  going  about  on  foot,  unknown  and  outcast,  with 
a  few  who  followed  Him.  He  wrought  miracles ;  but  the 
prophets  had  wrought  them  too,  and  yet  the  kingdom  of 
God  came  not  with  them.  So  He  died ;  not  as  a  king,  but 
as  a  malefactor  ;  and  as  a  common  malefactor — one  of  the 
many  who,  from  time  to  time,  were  seen  hanging  on  the 
cross.  So  He  rose  again  at  daybreak,  when  few  were 
by.  By  their  own  falsehood  they  broke,  so  far  as  they 
were  concerned,  the  force  of  this  mighty  sign,  saying,  "  His 
disciples  came  by  night,  and  stole  Him  away  while  we 
slept."  He  passed,  for  forty  days,  to  and  fro  in  Jerusalem 
and  in  Galilee,  on  the  mountain  and  by  the  sea;  seen  of 
His  own,  but  not  of  all  the  people.  And  at  the  last,  when 
He  had  led  them  out  unto  Bethany,  away  from  the  haunts 
of  men,  "He  was  taken  up  from  them  into  heaven,  and  a 
cloud  received  Him  out  of  their  sight."  Such  was  the  com- 
ing of  that  kingdom,  for  which  not  Israel  alone  was  waiting, 
but  the  whole  creation  travailed  together  with  tumultuous 
groaning  ;  and  by  this  manner  of  its  coming,  God  put  them 
on  their  trial,  whether  they  had  eyes  to  see  the  shadow  of 
His  hand,  and  ears  to  hear  His  voice. 

In  like  manner  also  the  kingdom  of  God  came  upon  the 
world  at  large.  While  all  mankind  was  full  of  its  own 
gross  imaginations,  bowing  down  to  the  power  of  evil,  and 
shaping  from  the  creatures  of  God's  hand  blind  mockeries 
of  Himself;  while  men  sealed  their  own  moral  debasement, 
by  making  the  natures  they  adored  a  transcript  of  their  own ; 
there  was  a  preparation  going  on,  there  was  that  unheeded 
fellowship,  in  an  upper  chamber,  brooding  over  great  and 
unimaginable  things.  They  were  men  of  whom  the  world 
knew  nothing,  but  they  had  seen  mysteries ;  they  were  not 


144  GOD'S  KINGDOM  INVISIBLE.  [Serm. 

read  in  learned  schools,  but  they  had  mused  on  the  sea  of 
Galilee ;  they  had  seen  the  feet  of  God  upon  its  heaving 
flood,  and  heard  His  word  rebuke  the  rudeness  of  the 
storm.  To  them  the  unseen  world  stood  out  in  visible 
reality;  heaven  had  revealed  its  wisdom;  hell  had  given 
up  its  secret ;  death  had  betrayed  his  own  overthrow ;  and 
the  grave  spread  open  as  a  homeward  path,  kindling  in  the 
light  of  life.  All  this  they  knew ;  for  they  had  seen  God, 
and  He  had  showed  them  these  things.  He  had  filled  them 
with  the  might  of  heaven,  against  which  no  power  of  earth 
could  strive.  They  had  in  them  the  omnipotence  of  truth 
— of  God  made  flesh,  crucified  for  the  life  of  the  world. 

And  thus  they  went  forth,  twelve  unnoticeable  men  ; 
but  they  had  in  them  a  secret  which  was  mighty  to  move 
the  world.  They  went,  scattered  abroad  into  all  lands, 
two  by  two,  speaking  grave  words,  of  things  past  and 
things  to  come,  pouring  a  little  water  on  willing  listeners, 
and  giving  to  them  bread  and  wine  with  prayer  and  bene- 
diction. Such  was  God's  kingdom.  Wheresoever  they 
went,  it  went  likewise — strange  and  silent.  Every  where 
they  had  the  mastery ;  and  yet  there  was  no  "  cry  as  of 
them  that  strive."  Every  where  they  were  more  than 
conquerors ;  yet  the  kings  and  kingdoms  of  the  earth  did 
not  fall  before  them.  All  these  stood  visibly  as  before,  but 
the  unclean  spirit  was  cast  out  of  them.  They  were  clothed 
with  a  mightier  dignity,  quickened  with  new  life  from  an 
unseen  spring,  and  governed  by  an  energy  which  is  of  God. 
While  kings  warred,  and  sophists  wrangled,  and  all  the 
goings  on  of  life  tided  onward  as  before,  the  kingdom  of 
God  came  and  stood  in  the  midst,  even  as  He  came  that 
night,  when  the  doors  were  shut,  silent  and  sudden,  breath- 
ing peace.  Its  coming  was  not  noised  in  the  market-place  ; 
it  was  not  announced  in  the  palace  of  the  Caesars.     As  at 


Xni.]  GOD^S  KINGDOM  INVISIBLE.  l^ 

the  first,  so  always,  it  came  without  observation  ;  a  kingdom 
invisible,  internal,  dwelling  in  men's  hearts,  knitting  them 
in  holy  brotherhood,  blending  them  in  one  with  the  power 
and  stillness  of  light.  Even  so  hath  been,  and  still  is,  the 
kingdom  of  God  among  us — from  that  day,  and  in  all  the 
world — in  this  land,  and  at  this  hour.  There  are  about  us 
the  visible  structures  which  enshrine  its  presence,  the  out- 
ward tokens  of  God's  service,  and  the  loud  schemings  of 
men  who,  under  the  name  of  the  Church,  would  serve 
themselves  of  the  Church  as  a  contrivance  for  civilizing 
mankind  ;  but  they  are  not  God's  kingdom.  There  is, 
under  the  badge  of  religion,  a  strife  and  struggle  for  mas- 
tery among  men  that  bear  the  sacred  name  which  the  saints 
first  bore  at  Antioch ;  but  God's  kingdom  is  not  in  their 
heady  tumult :  there  are  the  visible  hurryings  to  and  fro  of 
a  worldly  Jehu-like  zeal  for  the  Lord  ;  and  there  are  the 
plottings  of  earthly  Christians,— for  men  may  plot  for 
Christ's  Church,  as  well  as  against  it.  The  same  earthly 
and  faithless  temper  of  mind  which  sometimes  resists  God's 
will  may  also  insinuate  itself  into  His  service.  Men  may 
think,  and  do  think,  to  spread  His  kingdom  by  the  stir  and 
noise  of  popular  excitement ;  but  God's  kingdom,  like  God 
Himself,  when  He  communed  with  His  prophet  on  the 
mountain-height,  is  not  in  the  boisterous  and  fleeting  forms 
of  earthly  power.  As  its  coming  and  its  course,  so  is  its 
character.  It  is  not  in  any  of  these  :  but  verily  it  is  in  the 
midst  of  us ;  in  the  still  small  voice  of  the  holy  Catholic 
faith;  in  the  voiceless  teaching  of  Christ's  holy  sacraments, 
through  which  mysteries  of  the  world  unseen  look  in  upon 
us;  in  the  faithful  witness  of  the  Apostles  of  Christ,  who, 
through  their  ghostly  lineage,  live  among  us  still.  The 
same  men,  who  from  the  upper  chamber  went  forth  to  win 
the  world,  are  here ;  their  gaze  is  upon  us,  and  their  voices 

VOL.  I. -10. 


146  GOD'S  KINGDOM  INVISIBLE.  [Sbem, 

speak  to  us.  Prophets,  Apostles,  martyrs,  and  the  King 
of  martyrs,  are  with  us  to  this  day.  Since  the  veil  of  the 
temple  was  rent  in  twain,  heaven  and  earth  are  laid  in  one: 
all  that  heaven  holds  in  glory  is  with  us;  all  that  earth  ever 
held  of  God  is  on  our  side  ;  all  saints  perfected,  all  holy 
teachers,  all  servants  of  our  God  ;  all  the  spirit  and  the 
sympathy  of  the  whole  mystical  body  of  our  Lord  ;  all  the 
Church  invisible,  the  unseen  presence  of  the  Word  made 
flesh,  the  fellowship  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  the  power  of  the 
ever-blessed  Trinity — all  are  in  the  midst  of  us,  and  about 
us,  and  all  these  are  God's  kingdom,  of  which  we  are  heirs 
and  servants. 

Such  is  its  true  character,  ghostly  and  inward.  It  has 
its  seat  in  the  hearts  of  men,  in  their  moral  habits,  in  their 
thoughts,  actings,  and  affections,  in  the  form  and  the  bias 
of  their  moral  being;  the  visible  forms  we  see  are  but  the 
shadow  of  the  reality ;  God's  kingdom  is  the  obedience  of 
the  unseen  spirit  of  man  to  the  unseen  Lord  of  all.  We  see, 
then,  what  it  is,  and  we  see  how  we  may  fall  into  a  fault 
like  that  of  the  Jews,  by  transmuting  the  true  idea  of  its 
spiritual  character  into  the  base  alloy  of  earthly  notions. 

If,  therefore,  we  look  for  Christ's  kingdom  among  the 
popular  theories  of  political  and  religious  speculators,  we 
shall  look  for  the  living  among  the  dead.  We  have  great 
need  to  guard  against  this  danger  ;  for  the  popular  opinion 
of  this  day,  whether  in  politics  or  religion,  leads  to  an 
earthly  conception  of  the  Church,  as  of  a  thing  subject  to  the 
senses  and  understanding  of  man.  There  is  a  sort  of  under- 
current perpetually  drawing  men  away  towards  these  er- 
rors. They  either  think  that  God's  kingdom  is,  if  not  in 
itself  secular,  yet  to  be  promoted  chiefly  by  secular  mea- 
sures. This  is  a  common  form  of  religious  Eraslianism,  of 
which  we  see  many  examples.     Even  good  people  have  it , 


XIII.]  GOD'S  KINGDOM  INVISIBLE.  147 

and  worse  people  use  it  as  a  bait  to  draw  better  men  into 
ensnaring  toils,  promising  political  advantage,  increased 
efficiency,  immediate  results,  apparent  popularity,  general 
co-operation — silver  sounds,  the  bartering  price,  to  bribe 
them  from  their  stedfast  hold  of  the  broad  rule  of  God's 
mysterious  kingdom. 

A  second  danger  to  which  men  are  now  tending  is,  to 
think  that  God's  kingdom  is  to  be  spread  by  visible  excite- 
ment of  people's  minds.  The  whole  scheme  of  modern  re- 
ligion is  visible  motion ;  all  its  machinery  is  on  the  surface, 
all  its  momentum  is  from  without.  The  springs  of  all  power, 
if  secret,  are  mistrusted  ;  they  must  be  laid  bare  for  the 
childish  curiosity  of  minds  that  cannot  believe  any  thing  to 
be  going  on  unless  they  see  its  working,  and  understand 
how  its  results  are  brought  about.  This  runs  through  almost 
all  the  movements  by  which  men  fancy  the  Gospel  is  to  be 
propagated  at  home  or  abroad,  and  through  all  the  means 
taken  to  impress  it  on  individual  minds.  We  are  fallen 
upon  a  mechanical  age,  and  men  are  blindly  putting  me- 
chanical and  material  inventions  in  the  place  of  moral  power. 
This  runs  through  both  our  popular  religion,  and  our  popular 
education ;  c.  g.  the  attempt  to  do  by  stimulating  books 
what  can  only  be  done  by  the  moral  action  of  the  Church 
of  Christ,  and  the  endeavor  to  effect  upon  masses  of  moral 
beings  by  outward  systems  the  work  which  can  alone  be 
done  by  the  inward  power  of  regeneration  and  the  presence 
of  the  Holy  Ghost.  Much  that  is  called  efficient  manage- 
ment of  schools,  and  the  like,  may  be,  after  all,  little  better 
than  this.  There  has  been,  from  the  beginning  of  the  Gos- 
pel, an  inwardness,  and  an  invisibleness,  about  all  great 
movements  of  Christ's  Church,  which  ought  to  abash  the 
hasty,  talkative  zeal  of  men  into  a  reverent  silence. 

Knowing,  then,  the  character  of  God's  kingdom,  we  shall 


148  GOD'S  KINGDOM  INVISIBLE.  [Serm 

know  boih  how  to  keep  ourselves  from  these  delusive 
schemes,  and  how  to  spread  it  on  the  earth. 

We  shall  know,  first,  that  the  way  to  spread  it  is,  to  have 
it  ruling  in  ourselves,  to  have  our  own  spirits  brought  into 
harmony  with  its  secret  workings.  It  is  by  the  still  strength 
of  a  holy  character  that  we  must  leave  the  stamp  of  God 
upon  the  world.  As  they  in  the  beginning  went  out  from 
Judea  into  all  the  earth,  trusting  in  God,  counting  themselves 
nothing,  and  their  mission  every  thing ;  measuring  them- 
selves, and  all  the  actions  and  energies  of  body  and  mind, 
by  the  faith  which  Christ  had  charged  them  to  deliver,  and 
counting  only  those  labors  to  be  God's  service  which  fell 
within  the  limits  of  the  truth,  and  all  toil  but  unprofitable 
waste  of  life — nay,  even  as  a  very  scattering  of  the  Lord's 
harvest — which  swerved  from  this  rule  of  His  ordaining  ;  so 
we,  believing  and  living  in  the  faith  of  our  baptism,  and 
bending  all  our  thoughts  to  be  what  He  would  have  us, 
shall  best  spread  His  kingdom  in  an  evil  and  revolting 
world,  when  we  carry  most  of  its  heavenly  character  im- 
pressed upon  ourselves. 

And  by  knowing  the  character  of  His  kingdom,  we  shall 
know,  too,  how  to  make  that  character  our  own  ;  that  is, 
chiefly,  by  a  life  of  inward  holiness.  We  know  that  it  is  an 
unseen  kingdom  ;  that,  although  Christ's  Church  is  visible, 
as  God  was  visible  in  Christ,  yet  it  is  also  an  unseen,  be- 
cause an  inward,  power,  even  as  life  is  unseen  which  is  in 
man.  The  visible  Church  is  the  symbol  of  Christ's  pres- 
ence, as  the  water  of  baptism  is  the  symbol  of  a  new  birth, 
and  the  holy  bread  and  wine  the  symbol  of  Christ's  body 
and  blood.  We  partake  of  baptism,  that  we  may  partake 
of  the  Church  ;  our  new  birth  is  an  engrafting  into  salvation, 
through  the  blood-shedding  of  Christ.  As  we  may  partake 
of  the  water  of  baptism,  or  the  bread  and  wine  of  the  holy 


XIII.]  GOD'S  KINGDOM  INVISIBLE.  149 

eucharist,  and  yet  have  no  part  in  the  saving  grace  they 
bear  to  man,  so  may  we  partake  of  the  holy  Catholic  Church, 
which  to  the  eyes  of  faith  is  visible  in  all  lands  under 
heaven,  and  yet  have  no  fellowship  with  the  saints  of  Christ, 
seen  or  unseen — with  that  mystical  body  of  Christ,  which 
is  the  company  of  all  faithful  people — with  the  Church  of 
the  first-born,  whose  names  are  written  in  heaven.  We 
must  seek  to  have  the  inward  life  of  the  Church  in  our- 
selves :  it  is  not  by  loud  profession  of  the  faith,  nor  by 
headlong  zeal  for  truth,  nor  by  eager  controversies  against 
error,  nor  by  excited  devotions  ;  but  by  a  silent  and  even 
life  of  faith  and  purity,  by  a  patient  following  of  Christ's 
holy  footsteps,  by  a  mastery  of  temper,  by  mortifying  self, 
by  a  steady  gaze  on  His  mysterious  passion,  by  being,  and 
praying  Him  to  make  us,  like  Himself,  that  we  shall  bear 
within  us  the  kingdom  and  the  presence  of  God. 

And  to  sustain  this  character  in  us  at  all  times,  we 
must  remember  that  God's  kingdom  is  at  all  times  present 
with  us. 

It  is  upon  us,  and  we  cannot  flee  from  it ;  whether  we 
will  or  no,  it  encompasses  us  about ;  whether  we  remember 
it  or  no,  it  is  ever  proving  us.  We  may  be  forgetful  of  its 
nearness,  but  it  will  not  depart  from  us.  We  may  fall  into 
a  like  fault  with  the  Jews  of  old,  and  look  out  for  Christ's 
coming  when  He  is  already  with  us ; — even  as  some  look 
about  for  their  regeneration,  being  regenerate  already,  be- 
cause they  have  not  faith  enough  to  believe  the  mystery  of 
holy  baptism.  So,  again,  men  are  ever  beguiling  themselves 
with  the  dream  that  they  shall  one  day  be  what  they  are 
not  now :  they  balance  their  present  consciousness  of  a 
low  worldly  life,  and  of  a  mind  heavy  and  dull  to  spiritual 
things,  with  the  lazy  thought  that  some  day  God  will  bring 
home  to  them  in  power  the  realities  of  faith  in  Chri.-,i.     So 


if 


150  GODS  KINGDOM  INVISIBLE.  [Serm. 

men  dream  away  their  lives  in  pleasure,  sloth,  trade,  or 
study.  Who  is  there  that  has  not  at  some  time  secretly 
indulged  this  soothing  flattery,  that  the  staid  gravity  of  age, 
when  youth  is  quelled,  or  the  leisure  of  retirement,  when 
the  fret  of  busy  life  is  over,  or,  it  may  be,  the  inevitable 
pains  and  griefs  which  are  man's  inheritance,  shall  one  day 
break  up  in  his  heart  the  now  sealed  fountains  of  repentance, 
and  make,  at  last,  his  religion  a  reality  ?  Who  has  not 
allayed  the  uneasy  consciousness  of  a  meagre  religion  with 
the  hope  of  a  future  change  ?  Who  has  not  thus  been 
mocked  by  the  enemy  of  man?  Who  has  not  listened,  all 
too  readily,  to  him  who  would  cheat  us  of  the  hour  that  is, 
and  of  all  the  spiritual  earnings  which  faith  makes  day  by 
day  in  God's  service,  stealing  from  us  the  present  hour,  and 
leaving  us  a  lie  in  exchange  ?  And  yet,  this  present  hour 
is  all  we  have.  To-morrow  must  be  to-day  before  we  can 
use  it:  and  day  after  day  we  squander  in  the  hope  of  a 
to-morrow  ;  but  to-morrow  shall  be  stolen  away  too,  as 
to-day  and  yesterday.  It  is  now  we  must  be  penitent,  now 
we  must  be  holy ;  this  hour  has  its  duty,  which  cannot  be 
done  the  next.  There  is  no  new  coming  of  God  with 
observation,  to  make  the  Gospel  mightier  over  our  stubborn 
hearts,  or  to  bid  His  sacraments  renew  the  unwilling  and 
indolent  soul.  The  grace  of  the  holy  eucharist  that  was 
given  this  morning,  if  lost,  is  lost  for  ever.  To-morrow  may 
bring  its  own  opportunities,  but  will  not  restore  to-day's. 
The  convictions  of  this  hour,  if  unheeded,  will  never  come 
back.  God  may  send  others,  but  these  will  be  gone  for 
ever.  Even  now,  while  I  am  speaking,  the  kingdom  of  God 
is  deep  in  your  inmost  being :  it  is  in  every  righteous  man 
that  serves  God  in  purity  of  heart ;  in  every  penitent  man 
who  sorrows  for  the  wreck  to  which  by  sin  he  has  brought 
himself;  in  every  repenting  man  who,  though  still  wavering 


XIII]  GOD'S  KINGDOM  INVISIBLE.  15] 

in  the  poise,  yet  inclines  towards  God  ;  in  every  worldly 
man  who  feels  within  the  visitings  and  promptings  of  a  will 
and  a  power  above  his  daily  life  ;  in  every  man  who  still 
trembles  in  himself  at  the  thought  of  God  so  nigh.  God's 
kingdom  was  very  nigh  to  him  who  trembled  at  the  judg- 
ment to  come.  Felix  trembled  once  ;  we  nowhere  read 
that  he  trembled  again.  "Behold,  I  stand  at  the  door,  and 
knock :  if  any  man  hear  my  voice,  and  open  the  door,  I 
will  come  in  to  him,  and  sup  with  him,  and  he  with  me." 


SERMON  XIV. 


THE  DAILY  SERVICE  A  LAW  IN  GOD'S  KINGDOM. 


Acts  ii.  46,  47. 

"And  they,  continuing  daily  with  one  accord  in  the  temple,  and 
breaking  bread  from  house  to  house,  did  eat  their  meat  with 
gladness  and  singleness  of  heart,  praising  God,  and  having  favor 
with  all  the  people.  And  the  Lord  added  to  the  Church  daily  such 
as  shouM  be  saved. ^' 

We  here  read  the  very  remarkable  fact,  that  the  Apostles 
and  the  whole  Church  of  Christ  still  continued,  after  the 
day  of  Pentecost,  to  attend  the  daily  service  of  the  tenaple. 
It  must  be  remenribered,  that  at  this  time  not  only  was  the 
whole  mystery  of  our  Lord's  passion  already  completed 
and  revealed  ;  not  only  had  He  risen,  and  given  authority 
to  His  Apostles  to  gather  out  His  Church  by  the  sacrament 
of  baptism  ;  but  He  had  also  shed  abroad  on  them  the  ful- 
ness of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  they  had  actually  begun  to 
gather  together  the  members  of  His  mystical  body.  In  the 
words  which  go  before  those  I  have  read  to  you,  we  are  told 
that  three  thousand  souls  had  been  baptised  into  the  Church  ; 
that  this  body  of  the  faithful  "continued  steadfastly  in  the 


Serm.  XIV.]  THE  DAILY  SERVICE,  ETC.  I53 

Apostles'  doctrine  and  fellowship,  and  in  breaking  of  bread, 
and  in  prayers;"  that  they  "had  all  things  common:" 
and  yet  of  this  definite,  organised,  isolated  body,  a  Church 
fully  formed,  and  conscious  of  its  own  personality,  we  read 
that  *'  they  continued  daily  in  the  temple."  Surely  nothing 
can  more  strikingly  show  that  the  Apostles  and  first  Chris- 
tians knew  themselves  to  be  still  bound  by  the  primary 
laws  of  faith  to  worship  God  in  public  every  day.  The 
truth  is  this  :  God  had  commanded  daily  worship  to  His 
elder  Church :  morning  and  evening  the  sacrifice  was 
offered  to  Him  in  the  temple.  So  long  as  His  elder  Church 
was  still  on  trial,  and,  though  guilty  of  Christ's  blood,  not 
yet  cast  off,  the  daily  service  was  still  accepted  in  its  an- 
cient line.  The  Apostles,  with  the  full  light  of  the  Gospel, 
continued  to  partake  of  it.  There  was  nothing  contrariant 
between  God's  eider  and  later  dispensation.  They  both 
worshipped  Him  in  His  temple,  and  offered  the  eucha- 
ristical  sacrifice  in  their  upper  chambers.  The  time  was 
not  yet  come  when  the  daily  sacrifice  should  be  taken  from 
the  elder,  and  given  to  the  Catholic  Church.  Until  this 
time  came,  the  Church  of  Christ  daily  served  God  in  the 
courts  of  the  sanctuary  on  Mount  Zion.  When  the  time 
came  that  Jerusalem  should  be  overthrown,  and  the  Divine 
Presence  forsake  His  temple,  the  daily  service  passed  to 
the  altars  of  the  Catholic  Church.  The  daily  worship  of 
the  Apostolic  Church  was  the  daily  service  of  the  Jewish, 
taken  up,  continued,  illuminated,  and  transfigured  with  the 
glory  of  the  Gospel.  It  was  the  same  daily  service  which 
Aaron  offered  fifteen  hundred  years  before,  filled  with  spirit 
and  truth.  And  so  we  find  from  the  earliest  dawn  of  the 
Church  of  Christ,  that  the  daily  service  was  an  universal 
law,  lying  at  the  very  root  of  its  spiritual  life.  We  find 
even  the  very  same  hours  of  nine  and  three  o'clock,  the 


154  THE  DAILY  SERVICE  [Serm 

times  of  ihe  morning  and  evening  sacrifice,  continued.  The 
Church  knew  that  the  daily  service  was  an  heritage  for 
ever;  that  the  Jews  had  made  forfeit  of  this  blessed  heir- 
loom, and  that  they  in  their  stead  had  received  it.  Now, 
from  what  I  have  said,  it  is  plain  that  the  daily  public 
worship  of  God  is  an  absolute  law,  binding  the  Church  of 
God  at  all  times  ;  that  we  are  bound  to  observe  and  hand 
it  on,  as  much  as  were  Moses  and  Aaron,  or  Eli,  or  Josedeck 
the  high-priest ;  that  the  Apostles  daily  worshipped  God  in 
the  temple,  and  all  Christians  received  it  as  a  primary, 
self-evident,  or,  as  we  are  wont  to  say,  axiomatic  law  of 
the  Church,  that  public  worship  should  be  daily  paid  to  the 
Most  High. 

It  would  be  very  easy  to  go  on  and  to  give  a  multitude 
of  other  proofs,  both  in  the  words  of  holy  writ  and  from  the 
facts  and  usages  of  the  universal  Church ;  but  I  have  said 
enough — first,  because  it  is  a  fact  not  denied,  that  the  Cath- 
olic Church  always  from  the  beginning  has  daily  worshipped 
God  in  public  ;  and  next,  because  the  duty  of  excusing 
or  justifying  their  neglect  lies  upon  those  who  have  departed 
from  the  unbroken,  universal  law  which  the  Church  has  ob- 
served for  more  than  three  thousand  years.  I  shall  there- 
fore offer  no  more  affirmative  proofs ;  nor  shall  I  add  any 
arguments  of  a  controversial  sort  to  refute  commonplace 
objectors.  I  am  speaking  not  to  gainsayers,  but  to  men  of 
good  will.  My  aim  now  is  to  say  what  may  assist  those 
who  are  willing  to  be  persuaded,  but  feel  themselves  beset 
by  plausible  objections.  As  for  mere  gainsayers,  they  must 
be  dealt  with  apart.  Charity  forbids  my  classing  with  them 
them  the  earnest  but  perplexed  minds  of  whom  I  speak. 
I  will  therefore  take  and  consider  a  few  of  the  most  specious 
objections  which  weigh  with  serious  people. 

1,  As,  for  instance,  it  is  often  said  that  the  daily  service 


XIV.]  A  LAW  IN  GOD'S  KINGDOM.  155 

is  unnecessary  now,  because  of  the  prevalence  of  family 
prayer.  There  are  many  strange  mistakes  in  this.  First, 
it  assumes  that  the  fathers  and  masters  of  families  in  times 
past  did  not  worship  God  in  their  households,  as  much  as 
people  do  now  ;  which  is  a  mere  assumption,  having  no 
grounds  but  the  fancy  of  the  speaker,  and  is,  moreover, 
contrary  to  the  recorded  facts  of  history.  Tt  is  perfectly 
plain  that  family  religion  was  a  prominent  feature  of  the 
Jewish  dispensation,  in  which  the  daily  service  of  God  was 
made  so  absolute  and  binding.  Indeed,  this  was  grafted 
on  the  household  worship  of  the  patriarchs.  Also  the  pas- 
chal supper  was  a  household  service  ;  all  the  daily  life  of  the 
Jews,  in  every  family  relation,  was  full  of  worship ;  all 
through  the  Old  Testament  history  we  have  ever  emerging 
tokens  of  family  religion.  We  find  Joshua  saying,  "  as  for 
me  and  my  house,  we  will  serve  the  Lord  ;"  and  such  was 
the  rule  of  every  faithful  Israelite.  The  hundred  and  first 
Psalm  is  the  very  mind  of  a  faithful  head  of  a  consecrated 
household.  The  same  we  find  runnina:  into  the  New  Tes- 
ment ;  even  among  proselytes.  Of  Cornelius  we  are  told, 
that  he  was  "  a  devout  man,  and  one  who  feared  God  with 
all  his  house  ;"  special  mention  is  made  of  his  communica- 
ting the  vision  of  the  angel  to  "  two  of  his  household  ser- 
vants, and  a  devout  soldier  of  them  that  waited  on  him 
continually."*  And  so  throughout  the  apostolic  writings, 
household  religion  is  broadly  recorded.  Very  little  can  they 
know  of  the  history  of  the  faithful,  who  in  all  ages  of  the 
Church  have  most  steadfastly  waited  on  God  in  His  daily 
worship,  if  they  imagine  that  their  households  were  without 
God  in  the  world.  The  private  lives  of  all  great  saints  show 
that  none  so  consecrated  their  homes  as  they  did.  In  the 
great  examples  of  the  English  Church  in  modern  days,  we 

*  Acts  X.  2,  7. 


156  THE  DAILY  SERVICE  [Serji 

have  direct  evidence  of  this.*  Every  body  knows  that  in 
the  last  century,  vi^hen  Christianity  in  this  land  seems  to  have 
grown  both  cold  and  dark  almost  to  extinction,  family 
prayer,  no  less  than  the  daily  service,  had  well  nigh  per- 
ished. By  God's  mercy  we  have  been  brought  back  again 
to  a  consciousness  of  our  decline  ;  but  it  is  only  the  vain 
self-flattery  of  the  day  to  talk  as  if  we  had  less  need  now 
of  the  daily  service,  because,  forsooth,  people  have  begun 
to  hallow  again  their  desecrated  homes.  The  objection  is 
false  in  its  facts.  They  of  old  who  worshipped  God  daily 
in  His  Church,  worshipped  Him,  far  more  than  we,  day  by 
day,  in  their  own  households.  And  we  painfully  overstate 
the  extent  to  which  family  worship  has  been  restored.  At 
the  most,  it  is  to  be  found  in  the  houses  of  the  educated,  and 
of  some  others  among  the  less  instructed  but  more  devout 
of  our  people.  But  in  the  homes  of  the  millions  of  our 
population  family  worship  is  still  unknown.  There  is  some- 
thing almost  hard-hearted  in  the  narrow-minded,  short- 
sighted way  in  which  people  use  this  objection  ;  as  if  the 
few  thousand  households  of  the  richer,  or  more  leisurely, 
or  more  educated,  or  more  religious,  were  all  the  Church 
had  to  care,  and  to  provide,  and  to  think,  and  to  act  for. 
People  get  into  a  way  of  thinking  of  themselves,  and  of  the 
little  horizon  of  their  own  consciousness,  as  if  it  were  the 
whole  Church  of  God.  They  are  truly  charitable  towards 
all  who  come  in  contact  with  them ;  but  of  the  wide  rough 
world  which  howls  around  their  little  precinct,  they  are 
unconscious  altogether.  But  not  for  them  only,  her  more 
favored  children,  must  the  Church  provide,  but  for  the  hun- 
dreds of  thousands  of  households  in  which,  through  the  sin 
of  master  or  mistress,  or  father  or  mother,  the  voice  of 
worship  is  never  heard  ;  that  is,  for  the  great  bulk  of  the 

*  See  the  Lives  of  Hammond,  Nicholas  Ferrar,  &c. 


XIV.]  A  LAW  IN  GOD'S  KINGDOM.  I57 

Church.     The  Church  must  open  a  shelter  for  the  desolate, 
and  dress  an  altar  for  those  whose  lot  is  cast  in  households 
where  God  is  unknown.     Therefore,  even  in  this  view,  the 
objection  rests  on  false  assumptions.     Nay,  it  turns  against 
itself;  for  if  family  prayer  were  never  so  full  an  equivalent, 
as  indeed  it  is  not  in  any  way,  for  the  daily  service  of  the 
Church,  how  few  households  possess  that  equivalent !    The 
very  objection  would  show  the  necessity  of  a  daily  service 
for  all  the  rest ;  that  is,  for  the  great  bulk  of  the  Church. 
But,  in  truth,  we  are  reasoning  on  a  false  basis.     Family 
worship   is  in  no  sense   a  substitute   for  public ;  and   the 
objector,  to  be  consistent,  must  extend  the  argument  even  to 
the  Sunday,  and  abolish  public  worship  altogether.     Does 
not  this  show  that  the  whole  is  a  confusion  of  things  broad- 
ly distinct  ?     Public   worship  is  the   perfection  of  all  wor- 
ship.   Personal  worship  was  in  the  world  before  the  worship 
of  a  family,  and  the  united  worship  of  families  is  the  wor- 
ship of  the  Church.     The  private  prayers  of  each  member 
in  the  house  does  not  discharge  him  from  the  duty  of  join- 
ing in  the  worship  of  the  family  ;  neither  does  the  worship 
of  the  family  discharge  the  household  from  the  duty  of  join- 
ing in  the  daily  worship  of  the  Church.     The  daily  service 
of  the  Jews  was  grafted  on  the  household  worship  of  the 
patriarchs,  or,  rather,  it  was  developed  out  of  it ;    in  the 
public  worship  of  the  tribes  of  Israel  the  household  worship 
of  Abraham  rose  to  its  perfection  ;  and  the  same  is  the  daily 
service  of  the  parish  church  to  the  family  prayers  of  every 
household  ;  these  unite  men,  the  other  unites  families-;  and 
such,  too,  is  the  daily  worship  of  the  universal  Church  as 
conceived  apart  from  its  several  altars,  to  the  worship  of  all 
its  spiritual  families,  each  under  its  spiritual  head.     In  a 
word,  there  is  a  personality  in  the  individual  man,  in  the 
family,  and  in  the  Church  ;  and  each  of  these  personalities 


158  THE  DAILY  SERVICE  [Serm. 

is  so  related  to  God  as  to  demand  a  daily  acknowledgment. 
It  is  by  this  means  that  the  visible  and  conscious  unity  of 
the  Church  is  maintained.  And  it  is  a  remarkable  and 
instructive  flict,  that,  while  the  Catholic  Churches  in  the 
East  and  in  the  West,  from  the  beginning  to  this  hour,  have 
retained  their  daily  service,  the}'^  have — in  the  midst  of  what- 
soever corruption  in  doctrine  and  practice  maybe  otherwise 
alleged  against  them — nevertheless  retained  also  a  visible 
and  conscious  unity:  while  certain  portions  of  the  Western 
Church,  which  in  the  last  three  centuries  have  abandoned 
the  daily  service,  have  lost  that  visible  and  conscious  unity. 
They  broke  the  bond,  and  trod  under  foot  the  symbol  and 
means  of  unity,  which  is  perpetual  visible  worship.  And 
the  end  of  this  we  see.  Unity  departed  first,  and  truth  fol- 
lowed speedily.  The  daily  sacrifice  was  taken  away,  and 
they  were  broken  up;  and  Churches  fell  into  fragments — 
into  congregations,  ever  changing,  ever  resolving  themselves 
into  new  forms,  ever  wasting  away,  gathering  round  new 
centimes,  multiplying,  and  yet  diminishing  ;  they  had  let  the 
embers  on  the  altar  die  out  untended,  and  then  they  sought  to 
rekindle  a  sacred  fire  on  their  own  hearth-stone;  but  the  unity, 
and  with  the  unity  the  energy,  of  spiritual  life  was  gone, 
or  it  lingered  first  in  families,  and  then  in  members  of  a 
family,  and  the  chill  of  the  neglected  sanctuary  spread 
through  the  family  into  the  secret  chamber;  and  men's 
prayers  in  their  own  closets  waxed  faint  and  cold.  Now 
this  has  been  our  state  ;  and  from  this  we  are  slowly  recov- 
ering, anxiously  chafing  our  numbed  limbs  to  life.  God  be 
thanked  that  prayer  has  grown  stronger  in  secret ;  that  it  is 
passing  out  of  the  closet  into  the  family  ;  but  God  forbid  it 
should  ever  stay  until  it  has  passed  out  of  the  family  into 
the  sanctuary  again.  This  is  the  end  to  which  God's  mercy 
is  leading   us  once  more,  as  He  led  His  servants  of  old. 


XIV.]  A  LAW  IN  GOD'S  KINGDOM.  159 

Ours  is  a  sadder  case.  Theirs  was  the  steady  growth  of 
the  first  design  of  God  to  its  full  perfection  ;  ours  a  slow 
recovery  from  a  perilous  decline.  Let  us  beware  how  we 
linger  by  the  way,  and  think  the  reconsecrating  of  our 
homes  is  all.  We  have  yet  to  regain  the  visibleness  and 
consciousness  of  unity  ;  yet  to  learn  that  though  private 
worship  is  meetest  for  our  unuttered  complainings,  and 
family  worship  for  our  earthlier  brotherhood,  public  worship 
is  the  bond  of  our  spiritual  fellowship,  the  most  perfect  work 
of  redeemed  man,  the  highest  energy  of  the  new-born  soul, 
and  nearest  to  the  bliss  of  heaven. 

2.  Another  common  objection  is,  that  the  daily  service 
of  the  Church  is  unprofitable,  because  so  few  are  able  to 
attend  it.  Of  the  ability  I  will  speak  hereafter;  at  present 
we  will  take  for  granted  that  only  few  can  attend.  Cer- 
tainly too  many  there  cannot  be.  The  more,  the  more 
blessed.  But  why  should  any  be  defrauded  of  a  blessing 
because  others  deprive  themselves  of  it?  Daily  service 
is  either  a  blessing  or  it  is  not.  If  any  man  will  undertake 
to  show  that  it  is  no  blessing,  in  God's  name  let  him  speak 
out,  or  else  forever  hereafter  hold  his  peace.  We  have  yet 
to  see  the  man  who  will  undertake  this  task.  But  if  it  be 
a  blessing,  why  should  any  be  defrauded  of  it ;  and  they 
too,  for  the  most  part,  such  as  stand  in  most  need  of  it? 
Why  should  Simeon  and  Anna  be  thrust  back  from  the  gate 
that  is  "  called  beautiful,"  because  others  see  "  no  comeli- 
ness" in  it  "  that  they  should  desire"  it?  What  is  it  that 
men,  and  sometimes  good  men,  would  say,  when  they  talk 
of  the  profitableness  or  unprofitableness  of  this  or  that  in 
religion  ?  In  what  company  of  the  merchants  of  Midian 
were  they  nurtured  so  as  to  be  unconscious  of  the  barter- 
ing, selfish,  unhallowed  temper  which  breathes  through  such 
a  word  ?     Is  it  not  fearfully  like  to  his  words  who  asked, 


160  THE  DAILY  SERVICE  [Serm 

"Doth  Job  serve  God  for  naught?"  Alas!  we  are  cast 
upon  an  age  of  merchandise.  All  our  life  savors  ot  it.  Our 
theology  draws  its  parallels  from  it.  Our  sanctuaries  are 
built  by  its  schemes.  Our  very  hearts  buy  and  sell  in  the 
temple  ;  whereby  we  may  know  that  He  is  not  far  off  who, 
with  a  scourge  of  cords,  once  cleansed  His  Father's  house  : 
and  •'  who  may  abide  the  day  of  His  coming,  or  who  shall 
stand  when  he  appeareth  ?"  God  forbid  we  should  come 
to  this  place  only  because  it  is  profitable  to  us  !  We  wor- 
ship God  because  it  is  an  homage  due  to  Him.  What  is 
right  is  always  profitable  :  but  woe  to  the  man  that  does 
right  only  that  he  may  be  profited  !  Honesty  is  the  best 
policy;  but  he  is  no  honest  man  who  pays  his  just  debts 
only  that  he  may  be  a  gainer.  He  is  no  better  than  a  sordid, 
unprincipled  man,  who  would  just  as  lief  defraud  his  cred- 
itors as  pay  them,  if  only  the  balance  of  profit  lay  on  that 
side.  Even  the  heathen  of  old  were  wiser  than  our  philo- 
sophers now-a-days.  We  are  gravely  told  that  the  expedient 
will  always  be  found  to  be  the  right.  Most  true  ;  but  con- 
science is  man's  guide  in  moral  actions  ;  and  it  is  not  con- 
science, but  calculation,  which  judges  of  the  expedient.  Let 
a  man  do  right,  and  he  will  infallibly  do  what  is  expedient. 
God  has  given  him  a  moral  sight  to  discern  the  right  as  a 
test  and  as  the  including  form  of  true  expediency  :  to  invert 
the  order  of  our  moral  and  reasonable  constitution,  is  like 
pretending  to  judge  of  tastes  by  the  smell  or  the  hearing. 
For  once  that  we  may  be  right,  we  shall  mistake  a  thousand 
times.  And  so  in  the  holiest  things  ;  we  have  no  test  of 
what  is  profitable  but  what  is  right.  We  have  no  warrant 
to  use  the  word,  except  in  speaking  of  what  it  is  our  duty 
to  do.  St.  Paul  says,  "  I  'profited  in  the  Jews'  religion 
above  many  my  equals,"*  and  that  was  in  the  way  I  speak 

•  Gal.  i.  14. 


# 


XIV.]  A  LAW  IN  GOD'S  KINGDOM.  161 

of,  t.  c.  exact  conformity  to  the  rule  of  duty.  There  is  no 
form  of  evil,  heresy  and  schism  included,  into  which  a  man 
who,  instead  of  what  is  ordered,  makes  what  is  profitable 
his  test  in  religion,  is  not  likely  to  fall. 

And,  besides  this,  it  is  manifest  that  the  duty  of  wor- 
shipping God  day  by  day  rests  upon  the  same  ground  as  the 
obedience  of  faith.  How  incongruous  is  it  for  those  who 
so  jealously  contend  that  the  works  of  faith  are  a  free  ser- 
vice, to  talk  o^ profitableness,  as  if  that  were  the  test  of  pub- 
lic worship  !  The  whole  life  of  faith  is  a  free  service — as 
it  were,  a  perpetual  eucharist :  "  Christ  our  Passover  is 
sacrificed  for  us,  therefore  let  us  keep  the  feast."  And  how 
intimately  does  this  harmonise  with  all  that  has  been  said 
of  the  daily  homage  due  to  God  !  From  the  rising  to  the 
going  down  of  the  sun,  the  Church  redeemed  from  the  gates 
of  hell  offers  her  daily  eucharist ;  not  asking,  How  shall  this 
profit  me  ?  but  ever  saying,  *♦  It  is  very  meet,  right,  and  our 
bounden  duty,  that  we  should  at  all  times  and  in  all  places 
give  thanks  unto  Thee,  O  Lord,  Holy  Father,  Almighty, 
Everlasting  God."  By  this,  again,  that  is  by  the  whole 
idea  and  spirit  of  a  life  of  faith,  the  low  calculations  of  profit 
are  excluded  from  the  subject  of  the  daily  service. 

But  that  it  may  not  seem  as  if  the  objection  had  the 
lightest  weight,  I  will  say  that  the  highest  and  most  real 
profit  of  the  Christian  is,  after  all,  to  be  found  in  the  daily 
worship  of  Almighty  God.  I  might  content  myself  with 
saying,  it  must  be  so,  because  it  is  a  homage  and  an 
eucharistical  ofTering  due  to  God  our  Redeemer.  But  I 
will  explain  what  I  mean  more  fully.  In  the  daily  service 
of  the  Church,  we  are  brought  more  sensibly  under  the 
shadow  of  the  unseen  world  than  at  any  other  time.  Though 
we  may  have  livelier  feelings  at  other  times  of  prayer,  cer- 
tainly never  have  we  so  great  a  sense  of  awe  and  reverence 

VOL.  I.-ll. 


162  THE  DAILY  SERVICE.  [Serm. 

as  in  the  house  of  God.     It  thereby  sustains,  by  a  perpetual 
help,  the  ever-fainting  faith  of  our  hearts :  it  keeps  a  daily 
check  upon  this  visible  world,  which  is  always  growing  up 
about  us  and  closing  us  in  on  every  side.     First,  then,  it  is 
a  witness  for  the  unseen  world.     Next,  it  strengthens  the 
habits  of  devotion.    Let  any  one  who  has  kept  a  watch  upon 
himself  say,  whether  it  is  not  most  certain  that  at  no  time 
is  his  mind  more  fenced  from  distraction  and  more  drawn 
towards  the  object  of  worship,  by  the  outward  admonitions 
of  the  eye  and  ear,  than  in  the  church.     And  this  passes 
into  all  the  acts  of  divine   service, — into  the  confessions, 
prayers,  praises,  thanksgivings.     Again  ;  there  is  a  direct 
incitement  to  devotion  in  the  consciousness  of  united  wor- 
ship.    So   it   was   ordained    by   the   constitution   of  man's 
heart ;  and  this  natural  feeling  is  the  bond  of  the  communion 
of  saints.    Man  was  as  little  made  to  worship  alone  as  to  live 
alone  :  united  homage  is  the  destined  bliss  of  man.     And, 
once   more  ;    there    are    special   promises    made   to   united 
prayer;  Christ  has  promised  to  be  in  the  midst  of  us,  and 
to  grant  what  we  ask  with  one  accord.     We  cannot  limit 
this  blessing :  no  man  can  say  how  great  it  may  be.     And 
shall  any  man  say  that  this  is  noi  profitable  7  or  that  all  this 
is  not  necessary  for  every  redeemed   soul  of  man?  or  that 
daily  worship  is  a  duty  less  binding,  and  a  blessing  less  to 
be  longed  for,  in  a  parish  where  there  are  only  two  or  three 
,who  come  to  share  it,  than  in  a  parish  where  there  are  two 
or  three  thousand  ?     Duties  and   blessings  are  no  more  to 
be  determined  by  numbers  than  are  the  gifts  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  to  be  purchased  with  money.     Wheresoever  there  is 
a  church,  an  altar,  and  a  priest,  there  God  looks  for  His 
daily  homage,  and  there  He  will  hallow,  by  large  gifts  of 
daily  benediction,  the  souls  of  the  two  or  three  who  wait 
upon  Him,     "  They  that  wait  upon  the  Lord  shall  renew 


XIV.]  A  LAW  IN  GODS  KINGDOM.  163 

their  strength."  All  the  services  and  sacraments  of  Christ 
are  as  necessary  for  the  sanctification  of  one  soul  as  of  the 
whole  Church  on  earth. 

The  daily  worship  of  God  in  public  is  a  visible  act  of 
homasfe  due  to  Him  as  the  Creator  and  Preserver  of  the 
world,  and  as  the  Redeemer  and  Sanctifier  of  the  Church. 
It  is  a  solemn  approach  and  address  to  the  Majesty  unseen. 
The  seraphim  veil  their  faces  before  Him  on  high  ;  the 
cherubim  adore  in  the  glory  of  His  presence  ;  archangels 
and  angels  cry  aloud  ;  the  heavens,  and  all  the  powers 
therein,  night  and  day  worship  the  Lord  of  Hosts;  the  holy 
Church  throughout  all  the  world  evermore  in  matins  and 
evensono^  doth  acknowlcdo'e  and  confess  the  living:  and  true 
God  :  it  is  a  visible  creed,  uttered  in  symbol,  set  forth  in 
oblations,  chants,  and  bended  knees  ;  it  is  the  new-born 
life,  reaching  out  its  hands  unto  the  Great  Father,  deep 
calling  unto  deep;  the  one  baptism,  calling  upon  the  regen- 
eration of  all  things;  the  new  creation  of  God,  manifesting 
itself  to  the  eye  of  flesh,  in  the  midst  of  this  wrongful  and 
turbulent  world.  This  is  the  meaninor  which  an2:els  read 
in  the  daily  worship  of  the  Church  on  earth.  Let  us  read 
no  less.  Even  though  nothing  else  could  be  said  for  the 
daily  public  service  of  God  in  His  Church,  let  this  suffice. 
Whether  it  be  profitable  or  no  to  pay  God  His  due  homage, 
if  any  doubt  now,  he  shall  know  in  the  morning  of  the  re- 
surrection. It  is  plain,  then,  that  though  there  be  never  so 
few  in  His  house,  this  homage  is  both  due  and  acceptable 
in  His  sight.  He  has  been  before-hand  with  our  objections, 
and  has  said,  "Where  two  or  three  are  gathered  together 
in  my  name,  there  am  I  in  the  midst  of  them  :"  to  every, 
the  smallest,  gathering  of  His  one  Church  He  has  pledged 
His  presence.  And  their  homage  is  no  less  acceptable  than 
the  worship  of  the  heavenly  companies  whom  no  man  can 


164  THE  DAILY  SERVICE  [Sersi. 

number,  whose  songs  are  as  the  voice  of  many  waters.  To 
object  on  the  score  of  the  smallness  of  the  congregation,  is 
a  direct  slight  of  our  Lord's  promise,  and  an  unintended 
confession  that  men  have  forgotten  the  whole  theory  of  wor- 
ship, which  is  homage  paid  to  the  unseen  presence  of  God. 
3.  Again  ;  it  is  sometimes  said  that  the  pastors  of  the 
Church  have  no  time  for  daily  service ;  that  if  they  were 
every  day  in  the  church,  they  would  have  less  time  to  give 
to  visiting  their  people,  managing  their  schools,  and  the  like. 
It  is  considerate  in  people  to  allege  these  reasons  for  them, 
though  assuredly  they  would  not  allege  them  for  themselves. 
And  that  because  they  know  that  the  Church  strictly  com- 
mands "  all  priests  and  deacons"  to  "  say  daily  the  morning 
and  evening  prayer,  either  privately  or  openly,  not  being 
let  by  sickness  or  some  other  urgent  cause  ;"  and  also,  that 
'  the  curate  that  ministereth  in  every  parish  church  or 
chapel,  being  at  home,  and  not  being  otherwise  reasonably 
hindered,  shall  say  the  same  in  the  parish  church  or  chapel 
where  he  ministereth,  and  shall  cause  a  bell  to  be  tolled 
thereunto,  a  convenient  time  before  he  begin,  that  the  people 
may  come  to  hear  God's  word  and  to  pray  with  him;"* 
and  also  that  the  Church,  in  the  Ordination  Service,  places 
the  ministering:  in  church  foremost  among  the  offices  of  the 
priesthood.  So  far  from  diverting  their  time,  it  would  give 
it  a  fixedness  and  regularity  which  would  wonderfully  ex- 
tend their  pastoral  usefulness.  Every  day,  at  a  certain 
hour,  their  people  would  know  where  to  find  them,  for 
counsel,  or  consolation,  or  help  of  any  kind.  Nothing  would 
more  assist  them  in  their  office,  than  a  habit  formed  in  their 
people  of  coming  to  seek  them  in  the  place  where  the  parish 
priest  is  daily  known  to  stand  ministering  in  the  order  of  his 
office.      They  are  now  too  often  compelled  to  act  in  an 

*  Preface  to  Book  of  Common  Prayer. 


XIV.]  A  LAW  IN  GOD'S  KINGDOM.  165 

obstructed  and  unheeded  way,  as  a  mere  visitor  or  reader 
in  the  cottages  of  their  people ;  and  the}'  that  have  most 
tried  it  will  best  know  how  hard  it  is  to  win  their  thoughts 
from  the  crowd  of  household-work  which  lies  around  them. 
What  we  want  is,  to  stir  our  people  to  some  more  direct, 
personal,  energetic  acts  of  religion,  than  the  passive  listening 
to  a  sermon,  either  in  church  or  out  of  it.  The  act  of  coming 
to  the  house  of  God,  and  praying,  is  such  an  act;  but  of  this 
part  of  the  subject  we  are  not  speaking  now.  The  clergy 
of  the  Church  would  be  greatly  furthered  in  their  pastoral 
work  by  a  disposition  in  their  people  to  join  them  in  daily 
worship.  It  would  restore,  also,  to  their  office  its  true  but 
most  forgotten  character,  and  bring  down  unknown  blessings 
upon  their  ministry. 

4.  I  will  notice  only  one  more  objection.  It  is  said  that 
the  habits  of  life  are  so  changed  as  to  make  daily  service 
impossible.  And  certainly,  when  we  see  that  from  sunrise 
to  sunset  the  working-man  is  at  his  labor;  the  mechanic  or 
manufacturer  twelve  or  sixteen  hours  a  day  at  his  furnace  or 
his  loom  ;  the  man  of  business,  the  lawyer,  the  trader,  from 
nine  or  ten  in  the  morning  to  five  or  six  in  the  evening,  ever 
toiling;  the  man  of  the  world,  even  still  more  laboriously, 
and  without  relaxation,  bound  down  to  the  round  of  cour- 
tesies, and  engagements,  and  usages  of  life, — we  may  well 
confess  that  the  habits  of  life  are  changed — but  for  the 
worse.  Once  the  world  waited  upon  the  Church,  and  took 
its  hours  and  seasons  from  the  hours  and  seasons  of  God's 
worship  ;  His  service  went  first  in  the  cycle  of  all  the  go- 
ings on  of  life  :  but  now  all  is  reversed.  The  Church  must 
wait  upon  the  world.  Worship  is  thrust  aside  ;  is  pent  up 
in  one  day  of  the  seven  ;  is  narrowed  to  one  service  in  that 
one  day.  The  poor  working-man  wrings  a  scant  livelihood 
out  of  an  over-labored   week.      Six   whole   davs   are  his 


166  THE  DAILY  SERVICE  [Serm. 

earthly  master's  share  :  one  is  all  he  has  for  God  and  his 
own  soul.     Far  worse  is  it  with  the  poor  sicklied  workman 
in  the  manufactory ;  and  hence  comes  a  sour  and  restless 
discontent.     Life  is  an  uncheered,  grating  toil,  which  jars 
and  galls  the  whole  man  in  soul  and  body.     Life  has  for 
them  few  gleams,  little  or  nothing  of  gladness  or  of  freedom  : 
even  wife  and  children,  which  make  the  natural  heart  to 
spring,  give  to  a  wearied  and   saddened  people  but  little 
happiness.     In  them  they  see  their  own  toil-worn  life,  as  if 
it  would  never  end,  beginning  over  again.     So,  too,  with 
the  learned  professions,  and  with  rich  traders,  and  men  of 
commerce  ;    they  are  ever  complaining  of  an   unrelieved 
pressure  of  daily  toil.     Many  men  fairly  break  down  in  body 
or  mind,  under  the  stress  of  life.     Of  those  who  cannot  wait 
on  God  daily,  because  they  are  so  over-labored  in  doing  the 
nothingnesses  of  society,  I  need  hardly  speak  :    and  yet 
these  are  the  habits  of  life  which  are  pleaded  in  bar  of  the 
daily  worship    of  God.     Times   and   habits   are  changed 
indeed,  and  miserably  for  the  worse :  changed  so  that  all 
men  are  crying  out  for  rest,  and  for  release  from  an  oppres- 
sive burden ;  so  that  the  great  adversary  of  God's  Church 
has  prevailed,  through  these  changes,  to  turn  God's  house 
to  a  desolation,  and   to  make   fast  its   porches  against  our 
endeavors  to  return.     Well  were  it  if  this  merel}''  external 
hindrance  were  all  he  had  raised  between  us  and  the  daily 
homage  of  the  Church.     Perhaps  at  no  time  was  the  moral 
disposition  of  man  so  alienated   from   daily  public  prayer. 
We  have  not  only  lost  this  great  axiom  of  the  Church,  but 
the   very  intuition  to  perceive   it.     It  has  become  a  matter 
of  inquiry,  and  doubt,  and  argument.     It  is  faintly  affirmed, 
and  vehemently  gainsayed.     Be  it  then  ever  remembered, 
that  the  daily  service  of  the  Apostolic  Church  was  grafted 
on  the  daily  service  of  the  Jewish.     The  whole  body  of  the 


XIV.]  A  LAW  IN  GOD'S  KINGDOM.  167 

first  Christians  assumed  it  as  a  law  in  God's  Church  for 
ever.  Men  have  now  abandoned  it  as  a  body  ;  and  its  hold, 
even  over  individual  minds,  is  comparatively  weak.  The 
best  are  unconscious  how  awful  a  silence  there  is  between 
God  and  a  Church  which  does  Him  homage  only  one  day 
in  seven:  and  in  this  silence  must  grow  up  a  still  more 
awful  strangeness;  and  the  Church  have  fewer  tokens  of 
the  Divine  presence,  and  fainter  reflections  of  His  imparted 
sanctity. 

Now  it  is  most  certain,  that  the  habits  of  life  are  not  so 
absolute,  but  that  a  little  firmness  would  soon  throw  them 
again  into  a  better  order.  Let  us  only  resolve  to  "  seek  first 
the  kingdom  of  God  ;"  to  take  the  cycle  and  the  seasons  of 
the  Church  as  our  governing  rule,  and  to  make  our  lives  bend 
to  its  appointments.  When  once  the  Church  has  restored  the 
solemn  days  of  fast  and  festival,  and  the  stated  hours  of  daily 
prayer,  there  will  be  an  order  marked  out  for  all  men  of 
good  will  to  follow.  And,  at  the  last,  we  shall  once  more 
see  this  fretful,  busy  world  checked,  and  for  a  while  cast 
out,  by  the  presence  of  the  world  unseen.  Its  burden  will 
be  sensibly  lessened  ;  and  the  hearts  of  men  will  have  some 
shelter,  and  rest  to  turn  to,  in  the  dry  and  glaring  turmoil 
of  life. 

Then  among  us,  as  of  old,  men  may  go  up  in  secret  to 
the  house  of  prayer,  to  make  their  sin-offerings,  and  their 
peace-offerings,  and  their  offerings  of  thanks.  No  sun  should 
then  go  down  on  sins  unconfessed,  or  blessings  unacknow- 
ledged ;  and  if  any  be  truly  hindered,  still  in  their  own 
home,  or  by  the  way-side,  or  in  crowded  marts,  or  in  busy 
cities,  or  in  the  fields, — when  the  bell  is  heard  afar  off,  or 
the  known  hour  of  prayer  is  come,  they  may  say  with  us 
the  confession  and  the  Lord's  prayer  ;  and  though  fir  from 
us  on  earth,  may  meet  us  in  the  court  of  heaven. 


SERMON  XV. 


THE  HDDEN  LIFE. 


CoLOSsiANS  iii.  3. 
"  Your  life  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God." 

By  the  sacrament  of  holy  baptism  we  were  both  buried  and 
raised  with  Christ ;  both  in  symbol  and  in  power  we  were 
made  partakers  "  of  a  death  unto  sin,  and  a  new  birth  unto 
righteousness."  Our  present  life,  therefore,  is  as  the  life  of 
our  Lord  after  His  resurrection,  spiritual  and  immortal. 
We  have  no  more  to  do  with  the  world  than  if  we  were 
dead.  We  are  even,  as  it  were,  ascended  with  Him.  St. 
Paul  tells  the  Ephesians  that  God  hath  "  raised  us  up  to- 
gether" with  Him,  "  and  made  us  sit  in  heavenly  places  j" 
and  the  Philippians,  that  "  our  conversation  is  in  heaven  ;" 
and  here  he  says,  "  seek  those  things  which  are  above, 
where  Christ  sitteth  at  the  right  hand  of  God  ;"  for,  as  to  all 
this  world,  and  the  works  that  are  therein,  "ye  are  dead, 
and  your  life  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God." 

Now  consider  what  it  is  St.  Paul  says:  he  tells  us  that 
our  life  is  lad;  that  there  is  a  depth  and  a  mystery  about 
our  life.     Now  this  siofnifies  : 


Serm.  XV.]  THE  HIDDEN  LIFE.  169 

First,  That  the  origin  or  source  of  our  spiritual  life  is 
hidden.  We  derive  it  from  Christ,  and  He  is  hid  in  the 
unseen  world,  in  the  glory  of  God ;  and  yet  our  life  is  hardly 
so  much  any  thing  received  from  Christ,  as  a  oneness  with 
Christ.  He  is  our  life.  We  are  so  made  partakers  of  Him, 
that  He  said,  "  Because  I  live,  ye  shall  live  also."  As  St. 
Paul  says,  "  I  am  crucified  with  Christ,  nevertheless  I  live  ; 
yet  not  I,  but  Christ  liveth  in  me."  This  is  no  mere  parable 
or  figure.  By  our  birth  into  this  world  the  first  Adam  lived 
in  us.  We  have  his  nature  and  the  stamp  of  his  disobe- 
dience. His  fallen  manhood  was  in  us.  By  our  second 
birth  in  holy  baptism  we  are  made  partakers  of  the  second 
Adam,  and  of  His  raised  and  glorified  manhood ;  all  His 
mystical  body  is  united  to  Him,  so  as  with  their  Head  to 
make  but  one  person.  All  members  of  His  body  are  so  one 
with  Him  that  they  live  in  Him,  and  He  in  them.  There  is 
one  life,  filling  and  quickening  all ;  and  that  one  life  has  its 
origin  and  source  in  the  unseen  world  from  Christ,  who  is 
"  hid  in  God." 

In  the  next  place,  St.  Paul's  words  mean  that  the  ha- 
bitual course  and  tenor  of  our  spiritual  life  is  hidden  and 
secret  from  the  world.  This  may  seem,  at  first  sight,  con- 
trary to  our  Lord's  command,  "  Let  your  light  so  shine 
before  men  that  they  may  see  your  good  works;"  and  to 
all  the  multitude  of  precepts  respecting  the  power  of  a  holy 
example.  But  it  is  not  so.  The  holiness  of  the  saints 
cannot  fail  to  be  seen.  It  breaks  out  by  its  own  strength, 
and  shines  around  them.  Do  what  they  may,  they  cannot 
hide  it.  Even  their  shrinking  from  the  gaze  of  the  world 
turns  into  a  bright  grace  of  lowliness,  and  betrays  itself  by 
the  act  of  concealment.  But  St.  Paul  is  not  speaking  of 
this  outward  manifestation  of  the  spiritual  life ;  but  of  its 
powers,  and  energies,  and  habitual  inward  actings.     There 


170  THE  HIDDEN  LIFE.  [Serm 

is  a  world  of  life  between  a  Christian  and  Christ  his  unseen 
Lord,  which  the  eye  of  man  never  beholds.  The  whole  life 
of  interior  repentance,  the  lonely  and  ever-repeated  confes- 
sions of  his  sins,  the  indignant  scrutiny  of  his  own  hidden 
thoughts,  the  tears  which  are  laid  up  in  the  vial  of  God,  and 
the  sighs  which  are  noted  in  His  book ;  all  the  energies  of 
faith,  and  the  breathings  of  prayer,  and  the  groanings  which 
cannot  be  uttered,  and  the  awful  converse  of  the  heart  with 
God,  and  the  struggles  of  the  will,  and  the  kindlings  of  hope 
and  love,  and  all  the  host  of  living  thoughts  which  pass  to 
and  fro  between  the  spirit  of  a  redeemed  man  and  the  Lord 
of  his  redemption; — all  these,  I  say,  make  up  a  hidden  life 
which  the  world  can  neither  see  nor  scan.  And  this  has 
been  ever  going  on,  more  or  less,  in  each  one  of  us,  from 
our  baptism.  And  how  wonderfully  is  all  this,  from  time  to 
time,  excited  and  complicated  by  the  changes  and  chances 
of  life — by  seasons  of  joy  and  sorrow  !  They  who  best 
know  each  other's  hearts,  how  little  do  they  truly  understand 
what  a  vast  realm  of  spiritual  life  lies  hid  in  each  one  of  us  ! 
how  it  reaches  upward  to  heaven  in  height,  and  downward 
to  the  deep  beneath  ;  how  it  touches  the  eternal  bounds  of 
good  and  ill !  And  all  this  is  in  each  one  with  whom  we 
daily  speak,  whom  we  love,  and  well-nigh  live  for.  We 
see  them  smile,  or  look  cast  down,  or  hang  in  doubt,  or  fix 
their  resolution,  and  speak  promptly,  and  then  muse  on 
what  they  have  done :  and  we  kneel  by  ihem,  and  worship 
God,  and  feed  on  the  same  eucharist,  and  have  the  same 
hopes,  and  fears,  and  prayers :  and  yet  how  little  do  we 
truly  know  them !  what  a  fine  illuminated  edge,  as  it  were, 
of  their  spirits  it  is  that  we  have  beheld,  and  our  love  has 
fastened  on !  The  full  breadth  of  it  shines  inwardlv,  and 
is  turned  on  the  unseen  world  alone.  How  all  the  history 
of  mankind  shows  this  strange  truth  !     Take  Enoch  for  an 


XV.]  THE  HIDDEN  LIFE.  171 

example.  He  lived  in  the  midst  of  men,  and  saw  all  their 
doings,  and  they  looked  upon  his  daily  life;  and  he  was  the 
father  of  Mcthusaleh,  and  of  sons  and  daughters.  He  was 
not  unlike  any  other  man  that  feared  the  Lord.  But  what 
a  secret  lay  hid  in  him  !  "  Enoch  walked  with  God  :  and 
he  was  not;  for  God  took  him."*  And  so,  at  all  times, 
between  God  and  His  true  servants  there  has  been  a  hidden 
and  most  intimate  fellowship.  The  saints  of  Christendom 
are  as  a  line  of  unintelligible  characters.  The  world  sees 
them,  knows  that  they  do  not  belong  to  it,  that  they  are 
above  it,  that  they  have  a  strange  intercourse  with  things 
beyond  its  sight ;  it  chafes  at  them,  mocks  them,  hates 
them,  but  fears  them.  It  may  slay,  but  it  cannot  scorn 
them.  There  is  something  too  real,  majestic,  and  awful  for 
the  world  to  dare  any  thing  but  their  death.  So  it  was  with 
St.  Paul,  and  with  all  prophets  and  martyrs,  and  wiih  all 
the  great  names  in  the  story  of  the  Church.  They  have, 
as  it  were,  a  two-fold  being,  or  two  sides  to  their  life  :  the 
one  written  by  the  world,  all  confusion  and  perplexity  ;  the 
other  recorded  by  the  Church,  full  of  unity  and  light.  And 
yet  neither  the  world  nor  the  Church  can  give  the  full  out- 
line, for  their  "  life  was  hid  with  Christ  in  God."  We  must 
wait  until  they  "  shine  forth  as  the  sun  in  the  kingdom  of 
their  Father." 

Let  u^  now  follow  out  some  of  the  consequences  of  this 
truth.  It  is  evident  that  there  are  great  diversities  of  char- 
acter among  Christians  ;  diversities  of  a  remarkable  sort — 
some  only  in  degree,  some  almost  in  kind.  Between  those 
who  live  purely,  and  in  the  fear  of  God,  there  is  often  great 
and  visible  difference,  and  yet,  at  the  same  time,  a  predom- 
inant likeness  and  a  true  fellowship.  But  between  those 
who  live  in  habitual  devotion,  and  those  who  live  a  blame- 

*  Genesis  v.  24. 


172  THE  HIDDEN  LIFE.  [Serm. 

less  life  (for  I  am  not  speaking  of  sinners),  without  the  living 
marks  of  faith,  there  is  a  difference  so  sensible  and  deep,  as 
to  make  them  almost  incomprehensible  to  each  other.  Now 
the  true  key  of  this  difficulty  is  to  be  found  in  these  words 
of  St.  Paul.  All  alike  have  been  made  partakers  of  the  one 
hidden  source  of  life,  by  baptism  into  Christ,  which,  like  the 
breath  of  our  nostrils,  is  a  gift  of  God,  passively  received 
into  their  being  :  but  in  the  energy  and  habit  of  their  living 
powers,  as  distinguished  from  the  gift  of  spiritual  life,  they 
differ  altogether.  Some  so  live  in  the  world  which  is  here 
visible,  as  hardly  to  live  at  all  in  the  world  unseen ;  some 
so  habitually  dwell  in  the  hidden  world,  as  to  have  but  little 
part  in  this  ;  and  all  the  rest  vary  in  their  character,  in  the 
measure  in  which  things  seen  or  unseen  govern  and  control 
their  life.  For  instance,  Christians  whom  we  call  worldly 
are  of  the  first  sort.  The  field  of  their  whole  life  lies  on 
this  side  of  the  veil  which  hides  from  us  the  unseen.  There 
is  no  indulged  evil  about  them  ;  their  morals  are  pure  ;  they 
are  kind  ;  they  seldom  speak  harshly  of  any  one  ;  they  are 
careful  and  exact  in  their  calling ;  prudent,  foreseeing ; 
discreet  advisers  on  a  large  range  of  subjects  in  morals  and 
politics  ;  they  seem  to  have  scanned  thoroughly  this  world 
which  has  importuned  their  attention  ;  and  they  will  go  with 
you  round  the  whole  horizon  of  this  visible  commonplace 
life.  But  when  you  come  to  the  point  where  things  seen 
blend  with  the  unseen,  they,  as  it  were,  vanish  at  once  ; 
they  are  gone  ;  and  you  feel  as  if  j^ou  were  alone,  by  your- 
self, speaking  aloud.  It  is  not  at  all  that  they  reject  or 
make  light  of  the  objects  of  faith  ;  but  they  do  not  see  them ; 
the  faculty  of  perception  lies  in  them  undeveloped,  as  the 
sense  of  harmony  in  an  untutored  ear.  It  is  simply  a  sus- 
pension, almost  a  privation  of  senses  :  the  hidden  powers 
of  hearing  and   sight   are  in  them,  but  have   never  been 


XV.]  THE  HIDDEN  LIFE.  I73 

roused  into  consciousness.  We  see  this  much  more  pain- 
fully in  people  that  love  the  pleasures  of  life.  The  easy, 
acquiescent  habit  which  grows  over  such  minds  seems  to 
make  them  incapable  of  steady  and  serious  thought.  Self- 
pleasing,  even  in  its  purest  and  most  refined  forms,  is  highly 
deadening  to  the  keenness  of  the  inward  life  ;  and  it  is 
remarkable  that  such  persons  are  often  full  of  religious  emo- 
tions and  religious  conversation.  Sensibility,  or  a  quickness 
of  superficial  feeling,  is  the  exact  part  of  their  mind  that  is 
most  unfolded  and  excited  by  their  common  life  ;  and  a  de- 
sire to  maintain  a  good  tone  and  standard  in  judging  of 
passing  events  compels  them  to  form  a  habit  of  talking 
religiously.  But  both  the  feelings  and  the  words  pass  off 
into  mere  unrealities ;  they  come  from  no  depth  of  the 
spiritual  life ;  they  are  uttered  by  no  conscious  energy  of 
the  will  ;  they  are  out  of  proportion  with  the  character,  be- 
ing high  and  deep  enough  for  the  utterance  of  saints.  In 
them  it  is  simply  artificial ;  mere  pictures  of  the  fancy,  and 
simulation  of  the  active  intellect.  Now  such  people  follow 
the  order  of  the  Church,  much  as  they  yield  to  the  order  of 
the  world.  Acquiescence  is  their  habit :  they  attend  fast 
and  festival ;  they  gaze  on  ceremonies  and  sacraments — 
but  they  see  only  the  outside.  They  cannot  penetrate  1 
within  ;  their  inward  sight  is  blindfold.  And  so  they  live 
on,  year  by  year,  the  exterior  habits  of  the  mind  knitting 
more  closely,  and  indurating  more  and  more  the  suscepti- 
bility of  their  interior  life.  The  gift  of  regeneration  lies  in 
them,  living  indeed,  but  without  a  pulse  of  life.  Theirs  is 
a  visible,  external  life,  acted  on  from  without — not  thrown 
out  from  within.  They  are  a  part  of  this  material  world, 
and  move  along  with  it,  and  are  conformed  to  it.  Doubt- 
less, even  in  such  persons  there  are  many  thoughts  and 
movements  of  the  soul  towards  what  is  to  come  hereafter ; 


X74  THE  HIDDEN  LIFE.  [Serm. 

but  these  are  instincts  of  the  heart  and  conscience,  almost 
invohintary  and  irresponsible.  The  greater  part  of  all  their 
conscious,  voluntary,  responsible  life  is  turned  to  this  visible 
world  ;  their  hidden  life  is  so  deaf,  and  blind,  and  lifeless, 
that  they  may  be  truly  said  to  have  little  more  than  the  gift 
which  they  passively  received  in  holy  baptism. 

In  direct  contrast  to  these  people  that  I  have  spoken  of, 
are  they  who  so  live  in  the  world  unseen  as  to  have  but 
little  part  in  this  life  :  such,  for  instance,  as  those  whose 
characters  have  been  moulded,  by  the  virtues  of  truth  and 
grace,  upon  the  laws  and  worship  of  the  Church  ;  whose 
spiritual  nature  has  been  unfolded  either  by  a  steady  growth 
from  the  waters  of  baptism,  or  by  the  afierwork  of  a  tho- 
rough and  searching  change.  We  find  in  them  a  purity  and 
dignity  of  mind,  a  refinement  and  elevation,  a  free  play  in 
all  the  powers  of  their  spiritual  being,  and  a  quickness  to 
penetrate  into  the  mind  of  symbols  and  mysteries,  which  is 
altogether  wonderful.  Every  one  is  conscious  of  it  but 
themselves.  To  them  it  is  as  unperceived,  by  any  reflec- 
tion, as  health  or  sight.  They  go  on  unknown  to  themselves, 
living  a  life  above  the  world,  which  makes  us  wonder  at 
them.  They  are  ever  putting  forth  more  and  more  of 
power,  and  unfolding  faculties  so  altogether  new,  so  mani- 
fold, and  so  adequate  to  every  season  of  great  trial,  whether 
in  action  or  endurance,  that  we  seem  never  to  have  known 
them  before.  They  hardly  look  to  us  like  the  same  men; 
and  the  more  energy  of  will  and  reason,  the  more  of  sanc- 
tity and  wisdom,  they  unfold  to  us,  the  more  we  feel  per- 
suaded that  there  is  an  inexhaustible  depth  behind,  a  source 
somewhere  out  of  sight,  from  which  they  are  perpetually 
drawing  in  new  powers  of  life.  In  all  their  judgments  of 
moral  character,  their  counsels  of  action,  their  foresight, 
schemes  and  cautions,  there  is  a  piercing  strength,  and  a 


XV.]  THE  HIDDEN  LIFE.  175 

clear  wisdom,  so  unperceived  before  they  uttered  it,  but  so 
self-evident  when  spoken,  that  we  are  fain  to  hear  in  silence. 
About  all  their  actions  in  life  there  is  a  plainness  and  a 
power,  a  calmness,  a  grace,  and  a  greatness,  which  makes 
us  feel  that  they  move  on  some  higher  path  than  we,  and  are 
numbered  in  a  higher  fellowship.  And  so  in  truth  it  is. 
Their  "  life  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God  ;"  their  "fellowship 
is  with  the  Father,  and  with  His  Son  Jesus  Christ."  Their 
visible  exterior  life  in  this  world  is  but  the  lesser  and  lower 
portion  of  their  being.  They  come  down,  as  it  were,  from 
the  source  and  sanctuary  of  their  hidden  life,  to  mix  in  the 
works  of  this  lower  world.  The  wonderful  light  and  irra- 
diation which  breaks  out  on  all  sides  of  their  character  is  no 
less  than  this,  the  mind  of  Christ  shining  out  through  their 
renewed  manhood.  They  are  channels  by  which  it  streams 
forth  into  this  fallen  world.  Year  by  year  they  have  less 
of  this  visible  life  about  them  ;  they  seem  to  put  off  its  mor- 
tality before  the  time.  They  are  more  and  more  drawn 
within  the  veil.  They  come  out  seldomer  into  this  turbu- 
lent state  ;  their  dwelling  is,  in  prayer  and  silence,  "  with 
Christ  in  God." 

These,  thenj  are  the  two  extremes  on  either  side ;  and 
the  number  of  each  is  few.  The  greater  part  of  men  are  to 
be  found  between  these  two  decided  characters  ;  under  the 
absolute  predominance  of  neither  the  visible  nor  the  invisible 
w^orld  ;  but  wavering  between  both,  balancing  in  an  ever- 
varying  poise,  inclining  now  to  the  one,  now  to  the  other 
side.  And  this  is  the  key  to  all  the  vacillation  and  incon- 
sistency of  men  otherwise  good.  They  are  better  in  aim 
than  in  act,  in  conviction  than  in  resolution ;  and  their  will 
IS  dragged  to  and  fro.  Hence  we  find  people  apparently 
of  a  worldly  mind  doing  acts  of  decided  faith  ;  and  people 
of  a  religious  character  committing  acts  of  mere  secularity. 


176  THE  HIDDEN  LIFE.  [Serm 

This  is  according  as  either  bias  of  the  will  prevails  in  turn ; 
they  have  a  sympathy  with  both  worlds,  and  both  still  keep 
a  hold  upon  them.  Again ;  we  see  people  more  decided  than 
the  last,  who  have  ventured,  as  it  were,  a  little  way  into  the 
world  unseen  ;  and  then  have  grown  afraid  :  they  feel  lonely 
and  disquieted ;  they  see  others  hang  back  and  leave  them 
to  go  alone  ;  and  they  fear  to  go  on.  Such  persons  have  a 
deep  conviction  of  the  reality  of  the  life  of  faith,  and  a  high 
perception  of  the  blessedness  of  living  under  the  shadow 
of  God's  throne  ;  they  have  at  times  felt  His  unseen  hand 
drawing  them  within  the  folds  of  His  presence,  and  have 
been  conscious  that  awful  lights  have  fallen  upon  their 
hearts.  And  yet  it  seems  to  them,  that  if  they  would  follow 
His  leading,  they  must  "needs  go  out  of  the  world;"  that 
they  must  make  great  sacrifices ;  give  up  many  pleasant 
dreams  for  the  future  ;  forego  much  they  have  been  toiling 
after.  Such  is  the  state  of  most  men — neither  one  thing  nor 
the  other ;  lacking  boldness  to  go  onward  or  backward  ; 
lacking  devotion  to  be  wholly  devout,  and  yet  having  so 
much  that  they  could  never  be  happy  again  without  it. 
They  have  a  great  measure  of  real  seriousness,  and  of  clear 
insight  into  the  hidden  meaning  of  the  Church  and  its  mys- 
teries. And  yet  this  is  not  the  predominant  feature  of  their 
character.  Their  visible  calling  imposes  its  laws  on  their 
whole  life  :  they  are  first  traders,  or  students,  or  statesmen, 
or  husbands,  or  fathers,  and  then  subordinately  they  are 
Christians.  Their  faith  is  kept  in  check  by  the  prescriptive 
rights,  as  it  were,  of  their  worldly  calling,  which  stamps  a 
governing  character  on  their  life,  limiting  the  play  of  faith 
in  the  unseen  within  certain  arbitrary  bounds  of  prudence, 
or  moderation,  or  established  usage,  and  the  like.  Now 
between  such  men  and  the  invisible  world  there  is,  indeed, 
a  certain  kind  and  measure  of  intercourse  ;  but  it  is  sadly 


XV.]  THE  HIDDEN  LIFE.  177 

darkened  and  thwarted.  They  are  forced  to  pay  homage 
to  this  world  first ;  and  their  allegiance  to  the  other  is  but 
secondary  and  conditional. 

There  are  two  further  remarks  I  would  make  on  what 
has  been  said :  and,  first,  that  there  is  no  lot  nor  calling  in 
life  (if  only  it  be  a  lawful  one),  in  which  a  man  may  not  so 
live  as  that  his  life  shall  be  "  hid  with  Christ  in  God."  It 
is  not  only  prophets  and  apostles,  or  monastic  orders,  or 
priests  waiting  at  the  altar,  who  may  so  stand  aloof  from 
this  world  :  it  is  within  the  power  of  all  men,  be  their 
station  never  so  public,  be  their  calling  in  life  never  so  full 
of  toil.  We  need  not  withdraw  from  the  ej^es  of  men  to 
pass  into  the  world  unseen.  We  are  not  any  the  more 
within  the  veil  because  we  are  hid  from  the  sight  of  men 
We  may  be  in  a  wilderness,  and  yet  shut  out  from  the 
invisible  world ;  we  may  be  in  kings'  courts  and  crowded 
cities,  and  yet  be  "hid  with  Christ  in  God."  The  avenues 
stand  open  every  where  alike ;  but  it  is  the  heart  that  must 
enter  in.  If  we  have  a  strong,  self-collected  faith,  it  matters 
little  where  we  are ; — all  visible  things  grow  transparent, 
and  unseen  things  shine  through  upon  us.  We  walk  as  in 
an  illuminated  cloud,  which  softens,  but  cannot  hide  what 
is  before  our  eyes.  And  that,  too,  not  in  acts  of  devotion 
and  in  hallowed  shrines  alone,  but  every  where.  In  our 
chamber,  in  our  household,  by  the  way-side,  in  the  scene 
of  our  public  duties,  at  all  seasons,  all  day  long,  the  whole 
vision  of  the  hidden  world  hangs  before  the  eye  of  the 
wakeful  spirit.  Therefore  let  no  man  plead  in  behalf  of 
his  sightless,  inactive  faith,  that  he  is  baffled  by  his  lot  in 
life,  his  duties,  his  round  of  labor,  the  distractions  of  society, 
and  the  like.  If  in  any  thing  he  is  consenting  to  the  neigh- 
borhood and  contact  of  evil,  then  his  plea  is  true  ;  but  if  his 
lot  in  life  is  that  which  God  has  chosen  for  him,  it  is  nothing 

VOL.  I.-12. 


178  THE  HIDDEN  LIFE.  [Serm.  XV. 

less  than  charging  his  hindrances  on  God.  From  every 
lawful  state  in  life  there  is  a  direct  and  open  way  into  the 
world  unseen. 

The  last  remark  I  will  make  is,  that  we  must  be  ever 
moving  one  way  or  the  other ;  either  to  or  from  the  source 
of  our  hidden  life.  To  hold  an  equipoise  between  the  seen 
and  the  unseen  is  impossible.  Our  inward  being  is  ever 
changeful  and  fluctuating ;  and  as  it  gains  or  loses  its  sym- 
pathy with  the  realities  of  faith,  so  it  will  either  rise  or  fall 
in  the  scale  of  spiritual  life.  We  are  always  tending  to  one 
of  the  two  extremes :  the  inward  must  subdue  the  outward 
to  itself,  or  the  outward  will  stifle  the  inward  life.  Let  us 
therefore  make  our  choice,  and  let  us  choose  wisely.  Most 
pure  is  the  happiness  which  may  be  ours,  if  only  we  will  ; 
a  bliss  without  a  shade  of  sorrow.  There  are  no  thorns 
now  in  the  hidden  life  of  Christ ;  no  chill,  no  blemish  in  its 
gladness.  All  things,  even  the  best,  below  God,  have  a 
canker  somewhere,  and  the  taint  of  a  fallen  world  is  on 
them.  Not  so  the  life  which  is  with  Christ  in  God.  It  is 
as  peaceful  as  it  is  pure ;  high  above  the  reach  of  all  per- 
turbations. They  that  live  in  Him  have  their  dwelling  in 
God  ;  they  look  out  of  Him  as  out  of  an  everlasting  shelter  , 
and  look  down  on  the  wide  weltering  sea  of  this  world's 
troubled  life.  Let  us  pray  of  Him  to  draw  us  within  the 
veil ;  to  make  us  forgotten  among  men ;  to  gather  up  all 
our  life  into  himself:  that  "when  Christ,  who  is  our  life, 
shall  appear,"  we  may  "  appear  with  Him  in  glory." 


SERMON  XVI. 


SINS  OF  INFIRMITY. 


St.  Matthew  xxvi.  41. 

"  Watch  and  pray,  that  ye  enter  not  into  temptation :  the  spirit  indeed 

is  willing,  but  the  flesh  is  weak." 

These  words  of  our  Lord  in  the  garden,  when  He  came 
from  His  agony  and  found  the  apostles  asleep,  are  very 
sorrowful  and  touching.  They  show  an  ineffable  depth  of 
tenderness  and  compassion.  He  uttered  neither  reproach 
nor  complaint  at  their  unseasonable  slumber ;  but  only, 
"  What,  could  ye  not  watch  with  me  one  hour?"  and  He 
turned  away  all  thought  from  Himself  to  them  ;  and,  for 
their  own  sakes,  bade  them  *'  watch  and  pray,"  for  that 
their  trial  was  at  hand.  Now  in  this  we  have  a  wonderful 
example  of  the  love  of  Christ.  How  far  otherwise  we 
should  act  in  such  a  case,  we  all  well  know.  When  any 
seem  to  us  to  be  less  keenly  awake  to  the  trial  we  may 
happen  to  be  undergoing,  we  are  above  measure  excited, 
as  if  some  great  wrong  were  done  to  us.  There  is  nothing 
we  resent  so  much  as  the  collected  manner  of  those  who 
are  about  us  in  our  afflictions.     If  they  still  seem  the  same 


180  SINS  OF  INFIRMITY.  [Serm. 

when  we  are  so  changed — even  if  they  can  still  be  natural, 
feel  common  interests,  and  take  their  wonted  rest,  we  feel 
exceedingly  aggrieved,  and  almost  forget  our  other  trial  in 
the  kindling  of  a  sort  of  resentment.  We  have  here,  then, 
a  wonderful  pattern  of  gentleness  and  forgetfulness  of  self; 
for  if  ever  there  was  a  season  of  sorrow  to  any  born  of 
woman,  it  was  the  hour  of  agony  in  the  garden.  It  seems 
strange  to  us  how  His  disciples  could  have  slept  at  such  a 
time.  They  had  but  then  left  the  upper  chamber,  where 
they  had  seen  and  heard  all  the  sad  words  and  acts  of  that 
last  passover;  they  had  heard  Him  saying,  "With  desire 
I  have  desired  to  eat  this  passover  with  3'ou  before  I  suffer ;^^ 
and  little  as  they  understood  the  full  meaning  of  that  mys- 
tery of  sorrow,  yet  from  His  way  of  speaking  they  must 
have  felt  overcast  by  the  belief  that  some  trial,  greater  than 
any  before,  was  near  at  hand.  Moreover,  they  had  seen 
Him  "troubled  in  spirit,"  and  heard  Him  say,  "one  of  you 
shall  betray  me."*  And,  besides  this.  His  parting  words 
to  them  when  He  went  away  from  them  a  stone's  cast  in 
the  garden,  were  enough,  we  should  have  thought,  to  keep 
them  waking  :  "  Then  saith  He  unto  them,  My  soul  is  ex- 
ceeding sorrowful,  even  unto  death  ;  tarry  ye  here,  and 
watch  with  me."t  And  with  all  these  things  full  upon 
them,  it  would  have  seemed  that  they,  least  of  all,  could 
have  fallen  asleep — they,  the  favored  three — Peter  who 
loved  his  Master  with  so  earnest  and  warm  a  love,  and 
James  who  was  counted  worthy  to  be  the  companion  of 
Peter,  and  the  disciple  who  an  hour  before  had  lain  on  His 
breast  at  supper.  In  St.  Luke's  Gospel  we  read  that  they 
were  "  sleeping  for  sorrow."|  And  this  secret  cause  of  their 
heaviness,  it  may  be,  the  evangelist  learned  of  some  one 
who  well  knew  what  passed  on  that  awful  night.     Who 

*  St,  John  xiii.  21.  t  St.  Matt.  xxvi.  33.  t  St.  Luke  xxii,  45. 


XVI.]  SINS  OF  INFIRMITY.  181 

can  doubt  but  that  they  sadl}'  told  all  their  infirmities?  St. 
Matthew  (and  St.  Mark  also)  say  that  "  their  eyes  were 
heavy."*  And  they  that  have  entered  into  the  depths  of 
sorrow  know  well  how  nearly  akin  to  slumber  is  the  langor 
and  amazement  of  unutterable  grief ;  how  the  "sight  faileth 
for  looking  upward,"  and  the  eyes,  which  gaze  fixedly  and 
see  nothing,  close  for  very  emptiness.  But  none  knew  this 
better  than  He,  the  Man  of  Sorrows,  when  He  spoke  these 
few  words  of  mild  upbraiding.  It  was  at  that  hour  they 
had  most  need  to  watch,  as  being  by  sorrow  least  able  to 
stand  against  temptation.  Theirs,  then,  is  an  example  of 
an  almost  blameless  infirmity  ;  and  yet,  though  hardly  to 
be  blamed,  it  was  not  the  less  beset  with  danger.  And 
here  we  have  a  great  warning,  and  a  no  less  consolation  : 
a  great  warning,  indeed  ;  for  if  they  slumbered  at  such  an- 
hour,  how  may  we  not  fear  that  our  temptations  will  often 
fall  upon  us  unawares  ?  And  yet,  for  our  consolation,  we 
see  how  gently  He  bare  with  them ;  and  He  will  surely  be 
no  more  severe  with  us.  In  truth,  He  made  their  defence 
for  them  ;  His  very  warning  taught  them  how  to  plead  with 
Him  ;  and  by  teaching  it,  He  acknowledged  the  truth  of  the 
plea :  "  the  spirit  indeed  is  willing,  but  the  flesh  is  weak." 
Let  us  consider  these  words. 

And,  first,  we  must  observe,  that  by  "  the  spirit"  is  to  be 
understood  what  we  call  the  heart  or  will,  illuminated  by 
the  grace  of  God  ;  as  where  St.  Paul  says,  *'  the  flesh  lusteth 
against  the  spirit,  and  the  spirit  against  the  flesh  ;"f  and 
where  he  prays  for  the  Thessalonians,  that  their  "  whole 
spirit  and  soul  and  body  be  preserved  blameless  ;"J  and 
again,  "  the  Spirit  itself  beareth  witness  with  our  spirit,  that 
we  are  the  children  of  God."'§>  And  next,  by  "the  flesh" 
IS  to  be  understood  our  fallen  manhood,  with  its  affections 

•  St.  Matt.  xxvi.  43.        t  Gal.  v.  17.         t  1  These,  v.  23.         §  Rom.  viii.  16. 


■Wf> 


182  SINS  OF  INFIRMITY.  [Serm. 

and  lusts,  so  far  as  they  still  remain  even  in  the  regenerate. 
Now  before  our  regeneration  we  are  under  the  power  of  the 
flesh  ;  then  there  is  no  willingness  to  serve  God  aright :  after 
our  regeneration,  the  flesh  is  put  under  the  dominion  of  the 
Spirit.     St.  Paul  speaks  not  as  an  Apostle  endowed  above 
other  men,  but  as  one  born  again  of  the  Spirit,  when  he  says, 
"I  can  do  all  things  through  Christ,  which  strengtheneth 
me."*     Such,  I  say,  is  the  state  of  the  regenerate.     They 
"  can  do  all  things  ;"  but  alas,  they  do  not.     The  flesh  has 
no  more  dominion,  except  we  willingly  re-invest  it  with  its 
sovereignty.     We  may  still  betray  ourselves   to  it   again, 
and  become  two-fold  more  enslaved  to  it  than  before  ;  and 
short  of  this,  even  though  we  no  more  yield  to  it  a  dominion 
over  us,  yet  it  is  to  us  "  a  sore  let  and  hindrance  in  running 
the  race  that  is  set  before  us."     When  it  cannot  overcome, 
yet  it  still  can  sap  and  weaken  :  or,  in  other  words,  it  is  a 
weakness  in  itself;  for,  under  the  governing  power  of  the 
Spirit,  our  regenerate  manhood  becomes  a  servant  of  God  ; 
it  is  once  more  consecrated   to  God's  service ;  but  having 
been  stripped  and  wounded  by  the  powers  of  sin,  and  left 
as  it  were  dead,  even   after  its   rising  again  through  holy 
baptism,  it  is  weak  and  failing  :  and  therefore  we  find  such 
paradoxes  in  the  lives  of  true   Christians.     They  are  ever 
willing,  and  purposing,  and  desiring,  and  yearning,  and  be- 
ginning well  ;  and  even  more  than  this,  we  see  them  grow- 
ing in  grace  and  spiritual  strength  ;  and  yet  we  find  them 
also  failing  and  falling  short,  ever  trying  to  reach  some  far 
mark,   but   not   attaining   it — purposing  great  things,    and 
hardly  accomplishing  little  things.    Such,  indeed,  for  at  least 
a  large  part  of  their  earthly  life,  is  the  state  of  most  baptised 
people  :  and  that  not  because  they  are  under  any  subduing 
dominion  of  indwelling  sin,  as  some  would  have  us  believe, 
•  Phil.  iv.  13. 


XVI.]  SINS  OF  INFIRMITY.  183 

who  expound  St.  Paul's  description  of  his  state  before  his 
regeneration  as  if  he  were  speaking  of  himself  after  he  had 
been  born  nn;ain  through  the  o'race  of  Christ:  but  because 
"  the  flesh  is  weak" — that  is,  their  whole  nature,  though 
made  new  of  the  Spirit,  is  still  feeble,  and  soon  exhausted, 
and  ready  to  slumber,  and  easily  cast  down.  And  this  is 
what  St.  Paul  means  when  he  says,  "the  flesh  lusleth 
against  the  spirit,  and  the  spirit  against  the  flesh  ;  and  these 
are  contrary  the  one  to  the  other :  so  that  ye  cannot  do  the 
things  that  ye  would."*  He  is  speaking  not  of  two  natures, 
but  of  one — of  one  fallen  but  regenerate  manhood,  in  which 
linger  still  the  susceptibilities  of  evil,  besetting  and  weak- 
ening the  renewed  heart  and  will  by  many  sore  and  stub- 
born hindrances.  Such,  then,  is  the  state  of  good  men,  of 
whom  it  may  be  truly  said,  that  the  *'  spirit  is  willing,  but 
the  flesh  is  weak."  Now  we  may  take  one  or  two  particular 
examples  of  this  truth. 

1.  For  instance,  we  may  trace  the  weakness  of  our  na- 
ture in  the  great  fluctuations  of  our  inner  state.  I  do  not 
mean  in  such  as  end  in  falling  away  from  baptismal  grace, 
or  under  the  mastery  of  any  grievous  sin.  These  are  ex- 
amples rather  of  the  strength  of  the  flesh  in»its  own  heredi- 
tary rebellion  against  God,  than  of  the  weakness  of  our 
regenerate  nature.  I  am  speaking  now  of  such  variations 
as  fall  within  the  limits  of  a  life  in  the  main  obedient  to  the 
faith.  No  one  can  have  carefully  watched  over  himself, 
without  perceiving  how  diflferent  he  is  at  different  times. 
Let  him  compare  the  trembhng  exactness  of  his  obedience, 
his  prolonged  and  earnest  prayers,  his  subdued  and  yield- 
ing temper,  in  a  time  of  sorrow  or  great  fear  ;  or,  again,  the 
depth  of  his  self-accusation  and  repentance,  and  the  watch- 
ful abhorrence  with  which  he  repelled  the  approaches  of 

*  Gal.  V.  17. 


184  SINS  OF  INFIRMITY.  [Sbrib. 

evil  thoughts,  in  a  time  of  severe  sickness,  or  in  a  season  of 
great  spiritual  blessings;  let  him  compare  such  a  state  with 
his  condition,  it  may  be,  some  few  years  after,  when  change 
of  position  in  life,  or  mere  toil,  or  elevation,  or  accession  of 
wealth,  has  come  upon  him.  Though  he  is  still  in  the  fear 
of  God,  he  is  a  changed  man.  It  is  diflficult,  perhaps,  to 
see  exactly  what  is  the  change.  It  may  be,  though  he  feels 
it  himself,  he  could  not  tell  what  it  is  ;  only  that  he  is  more 
self-possessed,  less  vivid  in  faith,  less  susceptible  of  impres- 
sions— that  he  retains  them  less  steadily,  and  has  lost,  as  it 
were,  the  quickness  and  flexibility  of  his  mind.  Now  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  all  the  while  he  has  been  sincere  in  his 
desires  to  serve  God  ;  but,  either  by  the  withdrawal  of  the 
outward  discipline  under  which  he  was  once  brought  nearer 
to  the  unseen  world,  or  by  weariness  in  well-doing,  and  the 
fretting  of  little  daily  counteractions,  he  has  given  way,  and 
declined  from  his  former  and  more  devoted  state.  Of  course 
such  persons  are  in  great  danger  of  being  overthrown  by  the 
direct  assault  of  sins  coming  upon  them  suddenly,  as  St. 
Peter  was,  a  few  hours  after  our  Lord  warned  him  in  the 
garden.  It  is  more  likely  than  not  that  such  falls  do  mingle 
in  from  time  to  time  ;  and  though  really  sorrowed  over, 
yet  leave  behind  a  deadening  effect,  which  is  not  enough 
noted  at  the  time,  and  shows  itself  afterwards  only  indis- 
tinctly in  effects,  or  as  one  among  many  causes  of  declension. 
2.  We  may  take  as  another  example  of  this  weakness, 
the  speedy  fading  away  of  good  impressions  even  in  those 
that  live  lives  of  real  devotion.  In  the  first  place,  it  seems 
true  that  the  mind  cannot  without  a  strain  be  ever  at  one 
pitch.  Like  the  power  of  sight,  it  must  have  its  intervals 
of  intension  and  remission.  It  seems  by  some  law  of  its 
inscrutable  nature  to  need  to  be  unbent ;  and  therefore,  after 
fixed  contemplation  of  the  unseen  world,  or  prayer  of  greater 


XVI.]  SINS  OF  INFIRMITY.  185 

length,  or  after  a  day  of  fasting,  it  may  be  that  the  conditions 
of  our  nature  require  that  it  should  be  relaxed.     And  this 
may  be  called,  in  one  sense,  the   weakness  of  the  flesh. 
For  of  the  ministering  angels  who  excel  in  strength,  and  of 
the  spirits  of  the  just  made  perfect,  we  are  told,  that  they 
rest  not  day  or  night  from  their  heavenly  adoration.    In  them 
there  is  nothing  of  earth,  and  therefore  nothing  of  infirmity. 
They  mount  up  as  eagles,  with  ever-renewing  strength.    In 
one  sense,  then,  it  may  be  said  that,  owing  to  the  weakness 
of  the  flesh,  our  adoration  is  but  a  faint  and  broken  reflection 
of  theirs.     But  this  is   not  the  sense  with  which  we  have 
now  to  do.     This  is  the  inevitable,  blameless  infirmity  of 
fallen  man.     We  are  speaking  of  something  further;  some- 
thing which,  if  we  will,  is  within  the  limits  of  our  strength  ; 
and  therefore,  if  we  will   not,  is  worthy  of  blame.     For 
instance,  it  is  a  sad  thought  when  we  reflect  for  how  short 
a  time  we  retain  the  posture  of  mind  which  was  wrought  in 
us  by  our  last  day  of  fasting,  or  our  last  act  of  self-exami- 
nation.    For  a  time,  we  were  bowed  under  the  Eternal 
Will,  and  awed  by  a  sense  of  God's  nearness,  and  a  sight 
of  our  own  sullied  hearts :  for  a  time,  all  the  faults  of  our 
inferior  nature  were  so  held  in  check,  that  we  seemed  to  be 
set  free  from  their  oppression ;  our  better  self  rose,  to  the 
surface,  and  maintained  its  ascendancy  :  we  were  drawn 
into  harmony  with  the  secret  order  of  His  spiritual  king- 
dom ;  all  things,  even  the  most   adverse   and   chastening, 
seemed  to  us  to  be  good  ;  we  were  willing  to  be  disposed  of 
by  Him,  though  it  should  cost  us  all  we  had  been  longing 
for  in  life.     Again,  in  times  of  great  affliction,  when  by  acts 
of  self-humiliation,  and  pondering  over  the  tokens  of  His 
purpose,  we  have  brought  ourselves  to  a  calm,  submissive 
state,  so  as  to  feel,  as  well  as  know,  that  if  we  had  chosen 
for  ourselves,  we  should  have  chosen  amiss,  and  that  our 


186  SINS  OF  INFIRMITY.  [Serm. 

piercing  sorrows  are  the  last  hope  of  breaking  us  into  obe- 
dience, the  necessary  means  of  winning  for  us  a  crown  in 
heaven  ; — it  is  sad  to  see  how  quickly  these  pure  and  blessed 
thoughts,  with  their  fresh  and  vivid  feelings,  are  blown  away 
like  the  morning  dew.  So  great  is  the  change,  that  we  seem 
to  be  other  men.  Our  lighter  thoughts  fritter  away  our 
humiliation  ;  lofty  and  self-trusting  impulses  belie  our  acts 
of  lowliness,  and  seem  to  turn  our  very  prayers  into  an  un- 
real and  intrusive  profession  ;  we  grow  restless,  self-guiding, 
wilful ;  we  take  up  again  a  self-confident  tone,  and  lose  our 
seat  among  those  that  are  poor  in  spirit ;  or  we  grow  fretful, 
and  retract  our  acquiescence  in  God's  chastisement,  and  in 
anguish  of  heart  forfeit  the  blessing  which  should  have 
abased  and  sanctified  us.  In  like  manner,  when,  by  a  great 
struggle  against  ourselves,  we  have  overcome  any  evil  tem- 
per of  the  mind,  by  which,  for  a  season,  we  have  been  mys- 
teriously buffeted,  though  for  a  time  it  seem  to  lie  dead 
within  us,  it  comes  back  upon  us  unawares,  and  takes  pos- 
session of  the  whole  mind  before  it  betrays  its  return.  All 
at  once  we  find  ourselves  within  its  grasp  ;  and  all  the  strife 
is  to  be  fought  over  again.  And  we  feel  wearied  out,  and 
to  have  no  more  spirit  in  us  ;  as  if,  in  St.  Paul's  words, 
"sin  revived,  and"  we  "died." 

They  that  have  watched  themselves  narrowly  know  by 
what  subtil  and  imperceptible  movements  of  the  mind  we 
thus  sink  away  from  our  better  dispositions ;  and  how  all 
the  while  that  we  are  desiring  to  hold  our  state  unchanged, 
our  highly  wrought  impressions  are  passing  off.  Not  only 
do  things  without  slacken  and  draw  us  down, — such  as  su- 
perficial talking,  many  companions,  differences  of  opinion, 
eager  discussion,  unconsidered  assertions,  words  not  weigh- 
ed, and  the  like, — but  it  seems  as  if  the  mind  were  ever 
shedding  its  own  better  energies  by  a  sort  of  radiation  ;  as 


XVI.]  SINS  OF  INFIRMITY.  187 

if  ihey  were  ever  escaping,  and  leaving  us  chilled  and 
downcast.  We  find  ourselves  indevout,  unhumbled,  un- 
happy. Here,  then,  is  another  example  of  a  willing  spirit 
burdened  by  the  weakness  of  our  fallen  nature.  We  have 
hardly  come  out  of  our  keenest  vigil  before  we  are  overcome 
with  slumber. 

3.  I  will  take  only  one  more  example,  and  then,  with 
one  or  two  remarks,  bring  this  subject  to  an  end.  This 
same  weakness  which  besets  our  imperfect  nature,  is  the 
reason  why  we  fall  so  far  short,  in  effect,  of  our  aims  and 
resolutions,  and,  in  a  word,  of  the  whole  law  and  measure 
of  obedience.  By  the  gift  of  regeneration,  and  by  the  pow- 
ers of  the  sanctified  and  illuminated  reason,  we  are  able  to 
perceive  in  some  sort  the  idea  of  holiness  as  it  exists  in  the 
Eternal  Mind.  In  will  and  desire  we  choose  it  for  our  law 
of  life.  But  the  powers  and  energies  of  our  fallen  nature, 
even  though  regenerate,  are  too  small  for  our  aspirations. 
In  desire  we  can  reach  to  a  sinless  perfection  of  being,  but 
in  deed  our  purest  and  most  elevated  obedience  is  mingled 
and  imperfect.  This  at  the  best ;  for  the  most  part  there 
is  a  sad  intermingling  of  a  baser  alloy.  How  much  is  there 
to  be  found  of  self  and  sloth,  and  of  our  characteristic  faults, 
and  of  secondary  aims  lying  just  below  the  horizon  of  our 
visible  acts,  in  our  works  of  charity,  our  alms-deeds,  our 
fasts,  our  prayers,  our  confessions,  even  at  the  steps  of  the 
altar  !  We  are  always  resolving  on  more  than  we  keep, 
purposing  more  than  we  do,  feeling  less  than  we  say ;  pro- 
jecting before  our  eyes  a  more  perfect  pattern  than  we  ever 
attain  ;  and  that  not  only  when  we  propose  to  ourselves  the 
example  of  our  Lord,  whom  none  can  follow  in  this  world 
"  whithersoever  He  goeth,"  but  even  of  men  beset  like  our- 
selves, as  His  saints  asleep,  or  His  servants  yet  living  on 
earth.     After  all,  ours  is  a  poor,  flagging,  swerving,  laggard 


188  SINS  OF  INFIRMITY.  [Serm. 

obedience  at  the  best.  Yet  we  are  not  only  willing,  but 
earnestly  striving,  desiring,  and  praying  Him  to  raise  us  to 
a  higher  measure  of  obedience  ;  and,  nevertheless,  ever  find- 
ing our  will  baffled,  and  our  acts  most  imperfect.  I  will 
give  one  instance,  and  then  pass  on.  Let  us  take  the  whole 
branch  of  our  personal  religion  which  is  expressed  in  the 
words  "  discipline"  and  "  devotion."  With  our  whole  soul 
we  purpose  to  fast,  pray,  watch,  meditate,  deny  ourselves  ; 
and  yet,  when  we  look  back  on  our  habits  hitherto,  we  shall 
find  that  we  have  been  consciously  failing,  leaving  things 
undone,  coming  short  of  our  rules,  changing  them,  seeming- 
ly for  fair  excuses,  but  really  to  relieve  the  weakness  of  our 
imperfect  nature.  Compare  the  end  of  Lent  with  its  be- 
ginning, or  the  evening  of  a  fast  day  with  the  morning ;  set 
side  by  side  your  resolutions  and  your  fulfilments,  your 
rules  and  your  acts  ;  and  who  shall  go  uncondemned  ? 

In  all  this,  then,  we  see  the  tokens  of  the  fall,  which  are 
still  upon  the  regenerate.  Only  One  was  ever  "  tempted 
like  as  we  are,  yet  without  sin."  Though  He  bore  our 
manhood  with  its  sinless  infirmities,  yet  He  hallowed  and 
endowed  it  with  transcendant  strength.  We  by  our  regen- 
eration are  made  partakers  of  that  same  hallowed  nature, 
not  in  perfection,  but  in  imperfection  ;  not  in  its  fulness,  but 
in  a  measure.  It  is  in  us,  but  made  subject  to  the  laws 
which  control  our  humanity  and  our  probation.  Such  is  the 
King  of  saints  in  the  midst  of  His  brethren :  He  shining 
with  full  orb  through  heaven  and  earth  ;  they  in  partial 
reflections,  sometimes  obscured,  sometimes  breaking  forth, 
waxing  and  waning,  yet,  on  the  whole,  ever  shining  "  more 
and  more  unto  the  perfect  day."  We  have  received  this 
great  gift  of  God,  that  our  "  spirit  is  willing."  There  is 
no  surer  sign  that  we  are  members  of  His  mystical  body, 
through  which  the  Will  that  moves  heaven  and  earth,  and 


XVI.]  SINS  OF  INFIRMITY.  189 

gives  laws  to  angels,  and  leads  the  morning  stars,  and  out 
of  darkness  brings  light,  out  of  discord  harmony,  pours 
itself  abroad,  fills  all  the  regenerate,  and  unites  them  to 
Himself. 

In  the  first  place,  therefore,  do  not  be  out  of  heart  at  the 
ever-present  consciousness  of  the  weakness  of  your  mortal 
nature.  It  is  well  known,  and  better  understood,  and  more 
closely  scanned  by  Him  to  whose  perfection  you  are  mys- 
tically united.  If  we  were  not  fallen  men,  what  need  were 
there  that  the  Word  should  be  made  flesh,  and  God  become 
man,  taking  up  the  weakness  of  our  manhood  into  the  power 
of  His  Godhead  ?  It  is  the  very  condition  of  the  regenerate, 
and  the  law  which  governs  the  knitting  together  of  His 
mystical  body,  and  the  educing  of  a  new  creation  out  of 
the  old,  that  it  should  be  gradual ;  imperfection  passing 
into  perfection ;  death  being  slowly  swallowed  up  of  life, 
sin  through  long  striving  cast  forth  by  holiness.  Moreover, 
we  know  not  what  mysterious  purpose  in  the  spiritual  world 
may  be  fulfilled  even  in  our  weakness ;  nor  how  the  glory 
of  the  Son  of  God,  and  the  abasement  of  sin,  may  be  per- 
fected in  our  infirmity.  It  was  not  all  fulfilled  when  in  His 
sinless  and  perfect  manhood  He  bruised  Satan  under  His 
feet :  He  will  do  more,  and  bruise  Him  day  by  day  under 
the  feet  of  our  weak  and  imperfect  nature.  What  St.  Paul 
said  of  the  apostolic  grace  is  true  also  of  our  regeneration : 
"  We  have  this  treasure  in  earthen  vessels,  that  the  excel- 
lency of  the  power  may  be  of  God,  and  not  of  us."*  And 
the  abasement  of  the  powers  of  evil  is  the  more  absolute  in 
this,  that  the  weakest  in  God's  kingdom  is  stronger  than 
they.  This,  it  may  be,  besides  his  own  humiliation,  was 
the  hidden  meaning  of  St.  Paul's  long  buffeting  with  the 
messenger  of  Satan  :    "  For  this  thing  I  besought  the  Lord 

*  2  Cor.  iv.  7. 


-# 


190  SINS  OF  INFIRMITY.  [Serm. 

thrice,  that  it  might  depart  from  me.  And  He  said  unto 
me,  My  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee  :  for  my  strength  is  made 
perfect  in  weakness."* 

And,  once  more;  as  there  seems  to  be  some  great  pur- 
pose in  the  permission  of  our  weakness,  so  does  there  also 
appear  to  be  as  deep  a  design  in  permitting  the  infirmities 
of  the  saints  to  cleave  so  long  and  closely  about  them. 
They  are  ever  crying  to  be  delivered  "  from  the  body  of 
this  death,"  to  be  set  free  from  the  harrassing  of  indwelling 
evils,  and  to  be  healed  of  the  very  susceptibiHty  of  tempta- 
tion. The  prayer  of  the  saints  has  ever  been,  to  be  "endued 
with  much  strength,"  to  be  made  like  to  the  One  who  was 
without  sin.  They  have  been  going  about  seeking  rest, 
crying,  "  Purge  me  with  hyssop,  and  I  shall  be  clean  ;  wash 
me,  and  I  shall  be  whiter  than  snow.  Cast  out  of  me  the 
unclean  spirit,  for  I  am  grievously  vexed  with  the  tyranny 
of  this  self,  which  of  a  child  hath  tormented  me.  Lord, 
how  long  wilt  Thou  not  speak  the  word,  and  heal  me?" 

At  first  sight  we  might  be  tempted  to  think  that,  as 
"  the  will  of  God"  is  "  our  sanctification,"  we  could  not  be 
too  speedily  delivered  from  the  infirmities  of  the  flesh.  But 
in  this  we  should  overlook  one  great  reality  in  our  present 
state.  We  must  be  made  partakers  of  the  humiliation  of 
Christ ;  and  therefore  we  are  left  girded  about  with  the 
burden  of  our  fallen  nature.  It  is  by  learning  the  depth 
of  our  fall,  and  of  the  evil  that  dwells  in  us,  that  we  are  to 
be  fully  abased.  We  must  "  drink  of  the  brook  in  the 
way  "  or  ever  He  will  "  lift  up  "  our  "  head."  Therefore 
God  suffers  weaknesses  and  infirmities  to  cling  about  His 
holiest  servants,  even  as  He  suffers  them  to  bear  a  dissolv- 
ing body  to  the  last.  Great  is  the  mystery  of  our  humilia- 
tion ;  even  sin,  for  which  we  are  abased,  is  over-ruled  to 

»  2  Cor.  xii.  8,  9. 


* 


m 


XVI.]  SINS  OF  INFIRMITY.  191 

perfect  our  abasement;  and,  besides  this,  our  faults  and 
weaknesses  are  left  about  us  for  our  purification.  The 
cleansing  of  spiritual  evil  is  a  deep  and  searching  work. 
It  is  not  as  the  bleaching  of  a  soiled  garment,  which  is 
dead  and  passive  in  the  fuller's  hand.  It  is  wrought  by 
the  energy  and  repulsion  of  a  holy  will,  conscious  and 
invincible  in  its  warfare  against  itself.  The  pains  of  in- 
dwelling evil  are,  it  may  be,  an  absolute  condition  to  the 
perfection  of  holiness  in  a  fallen  being.  Of  those  blessed 
and  holy  spirits,  which  have  ever  kept  their  first  estate, 
and  are  the  nearest  types  of  the  unchangeable  and  Holy 
One,  we  know  nothing.  But  for  the  restoration  of  us,  who 
are  fallen,  and  alienated,  and  redeemed,  and  born  again, 
not  a  re-moulding  as  of  dead  and  passive  matter,  but  the 
living  and  intense  action  of  a  moral  nature,  seems  ordained 
by  the  eternal  laws  of  will  and  being.  Our  weakness  and 
faults,  therefore,  are  left  to  abide  in  us,  that  we  may  learn 
the  perfection  of  hating  what  God  abhors.  They  are  as  a 
purifying  fire,  eating  through  us  with  a  sleepless  pain, 
and  an  anguish  which  cleanses  the  soul.  When  God 
shows  to  us  the  inner  depths  of  our  spiritual  being,  leading 
us  as  He  led  His  prophet  of  old,  through  chambers  hallowed 
to  Himself,  but  defiled  by  secret  abominations.  He  reveals 
to  us  a  mystery  of  fear  and  sorrow  which  has  nothing  like 
it  on  this  side  of  the  grave.  Nevertheless,  let  us  pray  of 
Him  to  show  us  all.  If  we  would  be  safe,  we  must  know 
the  worst.  And  this  will  teach  us  to  lay  our  hand  upon 
our  mouth,  when  we  are  tempted  to  cry,  "How  long,  O 
Lord?"  and  turn  us  from  the  rising  wish  "to  be  unclothed," 
and  to  be  delivered  from  ourselves;  because  it  may  be  that 
we  blindly  desire  the  shortening  of  our  purification,  with  we 
know  not  what  loss  of  glory  in  His  kingdom.     Better  is  it 


192  SINS  OF  INFIRMITY.  [Serm.  XVI. 

to  bear  about  the  cross  of  our  own  fallen  hearts  until  it  has 
wrought  in  us  His  cleansing  work.  Shrink  from  no  sorrow, 
so  it  be  purifying.  Our  soils  and  our  sins  lie  so  deep,  they 
must  needs  be  long  in  the  refiner's  fire.  Praj'^  rather  that, 
if  need  be,  you  may  be  tried  seven  times,  so  that  all  may 
be  clean  purged  out. 


^^"- 


SERMON  XVII 


SELF-OBLATION  THE  TRUE  IDEA  OF  OBEDIENCE. 


Hebrews  ix.  13,  14. 
"  For  if  the  blood  of  bulls  and  of  goats,  and  the  ashes  of  an  heifer 
sprinkling  the  unclean,  sanctifieth  to  the  purifying  of  the  flesh : 
how  much  more  shall  the  blood  of  Christ,  who  through  the  eternal 
Spirit  offered  Himself  without  spot  to  God,  purge  your  conscience 
from  dead  works  to  serve  the  living  God  ?  " 

Throughout  the  New  Testament  we  are  taught  that  our 
sins  are  forgiven  through  the  blood-shedding  of  Christ; 
and  in  this  epistle  St.  Paul  shows  to  the  Hebrew  Christians 
how  this  great  truth  was  shadowed  forth  in  the  symbolical 
sacrifices  of  the  law ;  and  how,  in  the  self-oblation  of  Jesus 
Christ,  the  one  true  and  only  atoning  sacrifice  was  offered 
up  to  God.  The  offerings  of  the  law  purified  the  flesh  :  the 
typical  oblations  put  away  ceremonial  uncleanness.  They 
could  not  cleanse  the  guilt  of  the  conscience ;  they  could 
not  put  away  sin.  For  this  there  was  needed  some  great 
spiritual  reality — something  having  relation  to  the  secret 
laws  of  God's  eternal  kingdom,  to  the  nature  of  holiness 
and  of  sin,  and  to  the  inscrutable  mystery  of  the  will,  and 

VOL.  I.-13. 


194  SELF-OBLATION  THE  [Serm. 

of  our  reasonable  being.  And  this  was  offered  up  by  Jesus 
Christ,  "  who  through  the  eternal  Spirit  offered  Himself 
without  spot  to  God." 

Now  we  will  inquire  somewhat  more  closely  into  this 
truth;  not,  indeed,  that  we  are  required  to  know  how  this 
mysterious  sacrifice  avails  for  our  atonement.  They  that 
were  healed  by  His  word,  or  by  touching  the  hem  of  His 
garment,  or  by  the  clay,  were  healed  by  a  simple  belief 
that  there  was  virtue  in  Him  to  make  them  whole  :  what  it 
was,  and  how  it  wrought,  they  did  not  know.  So  with  the 
great  oblation  whereby  our  sins  are  expiated.  The  multi- 
tude of  unlearned  Christians,  in  all  ages  of  the  Church,  have 
lived  and  died  by  faith  in  the  blood-shedding  of  the  Son  of 
God,  knowing  nothing  save  that  "  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ 
cleanseth  us  from  all  sin."  And  the  most  illuminated  of  the 
saints  have  known  little  more  of  that  transcendent  mystery. 
Blessed  be  God,  it  is  but  a  little  learning  we  need  have  to 
enter  into  His  kingdom  ;  and  that  knowledge  is  rather  in  the 
will  than  in  the  understanding,  and  is  rather  gained  by  a 
quiet  shining  of  the  mind  of  Christ  in  a  clear  conscience 
than  by  the  skill  and  keenness  of  intellectual  powers.  Still 
there  are  depths  into  which  we  may  see  far  enough  to  learn 
great  truths  ;  and  those  not  as  images  of  the  mind  only,  but 
as  great  laws  of  life  and  action.  We  will  therefore  consider 
further,  what  we  are  taught  in  holy  writ  respecting  the  na- 
ture of  the  one  great  sacrifice. 

St.  Paul  here  tells  us  that  Christ  "  offered  up  Himself." 
From  which  we  may  learn — First,  that  the  act  of  offering 
was  His  own  act ;  and  next,  that  the  oblation  was  Himself. 
He  was  both  priest  and  sacrifice  ;  or,  in  a  word,  the  atoning 
oblation  was  His  perfect  obedience,  both  in  life  and  in  death, 
to  the  will  of  His  Father,  And  this  St.  Paul  tells  us  in  the 
next  chapter :  "  Sacrifice  and  offering  thou  wouldst  not,  but 


XVn.]  TRUE  IDEA  OF  OBEDIENCE.  195 

a  body  hast  Thou  prepared  me  :  in  burnt  offerings  and 
sacrifices  for  sin  Thou  hast  had  no  pleasure.  Then  said  I, 
Lo,  I  come  (in  the  volume  of  the  book  it  is  written  of  me) 
to  do  Thy  will,  O  God  !"*  From  which  we  learn  that  the 
mystery  of  atonement  began  from  the  first  act  of  humilia- 
tion, when  He  laid  aside  His  glory,  and  was  made  in  the 
likeness  of  men.  It  contains,  therefore,  His  incarnation, 
His  life  of  earthly  obedience.  His  spiritual  and  bodily  suf- 
ferings, His  death  and  resurrection  from  the  dead.  Through- 
out the  whole  of  this  lengthened  course.  He  was  ever  fulfil- 
ling His  own  prophecy — Lo,  I  come  to  do  Thy  will,  O  God  !" 
In  childhood,  youth,  and  manhood  ;  in  the  acts  and  suffer- 
ings of  His  humanity  ;  in  all  that  He  did  for  sinners,  and  all 
that  He  endured  at  their  hands  ;  in  His  baptism,  fasting, 
and  temptation  ;  in  His  whole  obedience  unto  death,  as  well 
as  in  His  death  itself, — the  great  mastery  over  sin  was  ever 
accomplishing.  All  these  were  so  many  manifestations  of 
the  perfect  obedience  of  the  will  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  there- 
fore so  many  masteries  over  the  sin  which  has  troubled  the 
creation  of  God.  And  this  is  St.  Paul's  meaning  when  he 
says,  "  As  by  the  offence  of  one,  judgment  came  upon  all 
men  to  condemnation  ;  even  so  by  the  righteousness  of  one, 
the  free  gift  came  upon  all  men  unto  justification  of  life  : 
for  as  by  one  man's  disobedience  many  were  made  sinners, 
so  by  the  obedience  of  one  shall  many  be  made  righteous."! 
Now  it  is  important  to  look  at  this  mystery  in  its  fullest 
breadth,  to  correct  the  partial,  and,  in  so  far  as  they  are 
partial,  the  imperfect  views  which  are  often  taken  of  it. 
There  is  contained  in  the  dominion  of  sin  a  fearful  power  of 
death,  which  could  no  way  be  overcome  but  by  the  dying  of 
the  Son  of  God  ;  as  St.  Paul  says — "  By  death  He  destroyed 
him  that  had  the  power  of  death,  that  is,  the  devil  :"   our 

*  Hebrews,  x.  5-7.  t  Rom.  v.  18,  19. 


196  SELF-OBLATION  THE  [Serm. 

redemption  is  "  by  means  of  death  ;"  our  reconciliation  "  in 
the  body  of  His  flesh  through  death:''''  "  Christ  died  for  the 
ungodly :"  He  "  died  for  our  sins  according  to  the  Scrip- 
tures."* What  death  is,  by  what  link  it  is  indissolubly 
bound  to  sin,  how  the  death  of  Jesus  Christ  broke  that  link, 
we  do  not  know.  We  know  that  it  did  so :  but  we  know 
that  He  destroyed  not  death  only,  but  sin  also  :  and  the  vic- 
tory over  sin  was  wrought  through  a  whole  life,  of  which 
His  death  was  the  consummation.  He  overcame  sin  by  His 
holiness,  by  perfect  and  perpetual  obedience,  by  a  spotless 
life,  by  His  mastery  in  the  wilderness,  by  His  agony  in  the 
garden.  There  was  a  mysterious  warfare  ever  going  on,  of 
which  the  cross  was  the  last  act,  forasmuch  as  He  "  resist- 
ed unto  blood,  striving  against  sin."t  His  whole  life  was 
a  part  of  the  one  sacrifice  which,  through  the  eternal  Spirit, 
He  offered  to  His  Father  ;  namely,  the  reasonable  and  spir- 
itual sacrifice  of  a  crucified  will.  It  is  important  to  keep 
this  in  mind,  lest  we  fail  to  perceive  the  real  nature  of  sin, 
and  its  true  seat  and  energy,  and  thereby  lose  the  insights 
which  are  given  to  us  into  the  mystery  of  our  justification, 
and  the  law  of  our  justified  state. 

Let  us,  then,  consider  one  or  two  truths  which  follow  from 
what  has  been  said. 

And,  first ;  we  may  learn  into  what  relation  towards 
God  the  Church  has  been  brought  by  the  atonement  of 
Christ.  The  whole  mystical  body  is  offered  up  to  the  Fa- 
ther, as  "  a  kind  of  first-fruits  of  His  creatures."!  What- 
soever was  fulfilled  by  the  Head  is  partaken  of  by  the 
body.  He  was  an  oblation,  and  the  Church  is  offered  up  in 
Him.  He  "  loved  the  Church,  and  gave  Himself  for  it ; 
that  He  might  sanctify  and  cleanse  it  with  the  washing  of 

*  Heb.  ii.  14 ;  ix.  15.     Col.  i.  22.     Rom.  v.  6.     1  Cor.  xv.  3. 
t  Heb.  xii.  4.  \  James  i.  18. 


wl' 


XVII.]  TRUE  IDEA  OF  OBEDIENCE.  I97 

water  by  the  word ;  that  He  might  present  it  to  Himself  a 
glorious  Church,  not  having  spot  or  wrinkle,  or  any  such 
thing,  but  that  it  should  be  holy  and  without  blemish."* 
"  And  you,  that  were  sometime  alienated  and  enemies  in 
your  mind  by  wicked  works,  yet  now  hath  He  reconciled 
in  the  body  of  His  flesh  through  death,  to  present  you  holy 
and  unblameable  and  unreproveable  in  His  sight."t  The 
Church  is  gathered  out  of  the  world,  and  offered  up  to  God : 
it  is  made  partaker  of  the  atonement  of  Christ,  of  the  self- 
oblation  of  the  Word  made  flesh.  By  union  with  Christ, 
the  Church  is  so  one  with  Him  as  to  be  one  mystical  prson 
in  body,  soul,  and  spirit.  It  is  in  Him  that  we  are  beheld 
by  the  Father  ;  being  "  accepted  in  the  Beloved."  Even 
now  the  Church  is  crucified,  buried,  raised  and  exalted  to 
sit  with  Christ  in  heavenly  places.  In  the  same  actof  self- 
oblalion  He  comprehended  us,  and  offered  us  in  Himself. 
And  in  this  is  our  justification  ;  namely,  in  our  relation  as 
"  a  living  sacrifice,"  to  God  through  Christ,  for  whose  sake 
we,  all  fallen  though  we  be,  are  accounted  righteous  in 
the  court  of'heaven. 

The  next  truth  we  may  learn  is,  the  nature  of  the  holy 
sacraments.  Under  one  aspect  they  are  gifts  of  spiritual 
grace  from  God  to  us ;  under  another  they  are  acts  of  self- 
oblation  on  our  part  to  God.  He  of  His  sovereign  will 
bestows  on  us  gifts  which  we,  trusting  in  His  promises, 
offer  ourselves  passively  to  receive.  As,  for  instance,  in  the 
baptism  of  adults,  the  candidate  came,  and  after  renouncing 
Satan  and  his  kingdom,  made  oblation  of  himself,  by  pro- 
fession of  the  creed,  to  the  holy  Trinity.  In  like  manner, 
and  even  more  expressively,  are  children  dedicated  to  God 
by  the  office  and  ministry  of  the  Church  :  they  that  bear 
them  in  their  arms,  and  lend  them  speech  and  understand- 

•  Eph.  V.  25-27  t  Col.  i.  22. 


4 


198  SELF-OBLATION  THE  [Serm. 

ing,  express  a  twofold  act  of  oblation,  both  on  the  part  of 
the  parents,  who  thereby  consecrate  their  offspring  to  God, 
and  on  the  part  of  the  child,  who,  through  the  compassion 
of  God,  is  accepted  as  if  he  consciously  offered  up  himself. 
And  so  likewise,  in  a  more  express  and  visible  manner,  in 
the  sacrament  of  the  blessed  eucharist ;  with  the  "  creatures 
of  bread  and  wine"  we  offer  up  "ourselves,  our  souls  and 
bodies,  to  be  a  reasonable,  holy,  and  lively  sacrifice  unto" 
God.  The  whole  order  of  the  sacraments  is  expressive  of 
self-oblation,  by  which  we  offer  ourselves  to  God,  through 
the  atoning  sacrifice  of  our  unseen  Head.  They  are  the 
emphatic  expressions  and  the  efficient  means  of  realising 
the  great  mystery  of  atonement  in  us.  How  important  is 
this  view  of  the  holy  sacraments,  every  one  will  at  once 
understand,  who  remembers  the  low  and  shallow  views 
which  are  unhappily  too  widely  spread  abroad  in  these 
latter  days  of  the  Church.  It  is  denied  that  under  the 
Gospel  there  are  any  sacrifices.  They  are  looked  upon  as 
carnal,  legal,  unevangelical  rites,  which  were  abrogated  at 
the  coming  of  Christ.  It  is  said,  "  the  Church  of  Christ  has 
neither  sacrifices  nor  priesthood ;  the  Jewish  sacrifices  and 
priesthood  were  types  of  Christ  and  His  oblation  of  Him- 
self; He  being  come,  and  His  oblation  perfected,  these 
types  are  gone,  and  the  antitype  is  in  heaven."  Now  here, 
as  usual,  there  is  a  great  truth  only  half  uttered.  The 
Jewish  temple,  priesthood,  altar,  and  sacrifice,  were 
shadows  of  Christ.  Be  it  so.  But  St.  Peter  tells  us  that 
we  are  a  "  spiritual  house,  a  holy  priesthood,  to  offer  up 
spiritual  sacrifices."*  "  Yes,"  it  is  answered  ;  "  but  that 
is  to  be  understood  spiritually."  To  which  1  reply,  that 
spiritual  things  are  not  figures,  but  realities ;  that  the  Jew- 
ish temple,  and  priesthood,  and  altar,  and  sacrifices,  were 

*  St.  Peter  ii.  5. 


XVII.]  TRUE  IDEA  OF  OBEDIENCE.  199 

types,  and  shadows,  and  unrealities,  because  ihey  were  not 
spiritual ;  and  that  the  Church,  and  priesthood,  and  altar, 
and  sacrifices  of  Christians,  are  not  only  types,  as  indeed 
they  are,  of  heavenly  things-,  but  antit3'pes  ;  not  shadows, 
but  substances  ;  not  figures,  but  realities, — for  this  very 
cause,  because  they  are  spiritual;  that  is,  ordinances  and 
acts  ordained  and  wrought  in  us  by  the  eternal  Spirit, 
through  whom  Jesus  Christ  "offered  Hin:iself  without  spot 
unto  God."  What  a  strange  inversion  of  God's  economies 
— what  a  going  back  into  the  bondage  of  legality  and  Juda- 
ism, it  is,  to  look  upon  the  blood  of  bulls  and  of  goats  as  real 
sacrifices,  and  on  the  self-oblation  of  the  Church  in  the  holy 
eucharist,  through  the  atonement  of  Christ,  as  no  sacrifice 
at  all !  As  if  sacrifices  must  of  necessity  be  not  only  in 
part,  but  altogether,  material ;  as  if  theirs  were  any  thing 
more  than  sacrifices  in  a  shadow,  while  ours  are  "  in  spirit 
and  in  truth."  Is  it  not  very  likely  that  this  shallow  doctrine 
arises,  as  I  have  suggested,  from  the  partial  and  imperfect 
view  commonly  taken  of  the  one  great  oblation  ?  They  that 
dwell  chiefly  on  the  last  act  of  our  Lord's  suffering  in  the 
flesh,  seem  naturally  to  fall  into  a  lifeless  and  material  con- 
ception of  all  sacrifices,  whatsoever  they  be.  They  dwell 
on  the  external  and  material  part  only ;  forgetting  that  this 
is,  so  to  speak,  the  outward  and  visible  sign  of  the  oblation  ; 
a  part  indeed,  but  only  the  body  or  vehicle  of  the  sacrifice, 
which  has  an  inward  reality  in  the  spiritual  act,  and  may 
be  called  the  soul  of  oblation.  Such,  for  instance,  is  the 
sacrifice  in  the  eucharist ;  for  sacrifices  are  akin  to  sacra- 
ments, and  are  of  a  twofold  nature  ;  are  partly  material  and 
partly  spiritual,  partly  seen  and  partly  unseen.  And  there- 
fore the  faithful  in  early  times,  in  the  very  act  of  offering  up 
the  living  sacrifice  of  themselves,  saw  in  the  bread  and  wine 
of  the  holy  eucharist  an  expressive  symbol  of  self-oblation, 


200  SELF-OBLATION  THE  [Serm. 

and  a  fulfilment  of  the  prophet's  words  :  "  From  the  rising 
of  the  sun  even  unto  the  going  down  of  the  same,  my  name 
shall  be  great  among  the  Gentiles  ;  and  in  every  place 
incense  shall  be  offered  unto  my  name,  and  a  pure  offering^* 

I  will  now  draw  one  or  two  inferences  of  a  practical  kind 
from  what  has  been  said,  and  then  conclude. 

1.  We  may  learn  from  this  view  of  the  great  act  of 
atonement  what  is  the  nature  of  the  faith  by  which  we 
become  partakers  of  it,  or,  in  other  words,  by  which  we 
are  justified.  Plainly  it  is  not  a  faith  which  indolently 
terminates  in  a  belief  that  Christ  died  for  us  ;  or  which 
intrusively  assumes  to  itself  the  office  of  applying  to  its  own 
needs  the  justifying  grace  of  the  atonement.  *' It  is  God 
that  justifieth."f  All  that  faith  does  at  the  outset,  in  man's 
justification,  is  to  receive  God's  sovereign  gift.  By  our 
baptism  we  were  grafted  into  the  mystical  body  of  Christ, 
which  is  justified  through  His  oblation  of  Himself;  that  is, 
we  were  accounted  righteous  in  Him — we  were  justified. 
By  faith  we  hold  fast  the  gift  which  we  have  received  ;  and 
justifying  faith  conforms  us  to  the  self-sacrifice  of  Christ. 
Therefore  St.  Paul  says,  "  I  beseech  you,  brethren,  by  the 
mercies  of  God,  that  ye  present  your  bodies  a  living  sacri- 
fice, holy,  acceptable  unto  God,  which  is  your  reasonable 
service."!  And  this  is  the  meaning  of  his  words,  "  I  am 
crucified  with  Christ:  nevertheless  I  live;  yet  not  I,  but 
Christ  liveth  in  me  :  and  the  life  which  I  now  live  in  the 
flesh,  I  live  by  the  faith  of  the  Son  of  God,  who  loved  me, 
and  gave  Himself  for  me :  "^  and  also  of  other  like  passages, 
where  he  speaks  of  our  being  made  partakers  of  the  cross 
of  Christ.  Justifying  faith,  then,  is  the  trust  of  a  willing 
heart,  offered  up  in  obedience  to  God  :  it  is  His  will  work- 
ing in  us,  knitting  us  to  Himself     Perhaps  in  no  way  is 

*Mal.  i.  11.  t  Rom.  viii.  33.  J  Rom.  xii.  1.  §  Gal.  ii.  20. 


XVII.]  TRUE  IDEA  OF  OBEDIENCE.  201 

the  danger  of  a  merely  speculative  or  passive  faith  more 
exhibited  than  in  this  view ;  and  nothing  is  more  certain 
than  that  many,  who  are  far  removed  from  antinomianism 
in  doctrine,  and  even  hold  it  in  abhorrence,  are  in  danger 
of  acquiescing  in  a  merely  passive  faith :  such  persons,  I 
mean,  as  those  whose  lives  are  pure,  but  without  self-denial ; 
who  are  of  a  religious  mind,  but  at  peace  with  the  world  ; 
who  hold  correct  doctrine,  but  live  lives  out  of  all  harmony 
with  the  realities  of  the  cross.     The  faith  of  such  persons 
may  be  called  merely  passive  ;  because,  while  it  fails  to 
constrain  them  to  acts  of  self-oblation,  after  the  example  of 
Christ's  living  sacrifice,  it  rests  itself  upon  a  knowledge 
that  His  dying  on  the  cross  was  an  offering  in  their  behalf. 
And  hence  it  is  we  find  oftentimes  the  most  strongly  ex- 
pressed reliance  on  the  death  of  Christ  in  persons  of  a  very 
unmortified  habit  of  life.     Men  of  a  self-indulgent  character, 
who  live  in  ease  and  softness,  taking  their  fill  of  the  world's 
good  things — of  its  wealth,  popularity,  and  honors — who 
love  high  places,  and  delicate  society,  and  refined  pleasures, 
are  often  heard  to  speak  with  a  confidence  and  a  self-pos- 
session of  the  justifying  power  of  a  faith  which  would  seem 
to  be   in  no  way  distinguishable   from   a  knowledge   that 
Christ  died  for  us,  and  a  self-persuasion  that,  by  an  act  of 
their  own   minds,  they  can  apply  His  death  to  their  own 
justification.     Again  ;   it  is  a  dubious  and   untrusty  faith, 
(howsoever  clear  be  the  knowledge  that  Christ's  death  is 
our  atonement,)  which  is  reconcileable  with  an  ambitious 
life,  or  with  a  joy  at  succeeding  or  being  elevated   in  the 
world,  or  with  a  watchfulness  for  opportunities  and  occasions 
of  advancement.     It  is  hard  to  believe  that  such  men  are 
free  from  strong  choices,  and  purposes  framed  according  to 
the  bias  of  their  own  will,  or  that  they  are  dead  to  the  world, 
and  partakers  of  the  self-denial  of  Christ.,    We  have  need 


202  SELF-OBLATION  THE  [Serm. 

of  much  misgiving,  when  we  can  bear  to  be  followed, 
caressed,  and  listened  to  by  the  world  from  which  we  are 
redeemed.  Oar  faith,  if  we  would  endure  unto  the  end, 
must  be  stern,  unyielding,  and  severe.  It  must  bear  the 
impress  of  His  passion,  and  make  us  seek  the  signs  of  our 
justification  in  the  sharper  tokens  of  His  cross. 

2.  The  next  inference  I  will  draw  is  this:  we  may  thus 
learn  what  is  the  true  point  of  sight  from  which  to  look  at 
all  the  trials  of  life.  We  hear  people  perpetually  lamenting, 
uttering  passionate  expressions  of  grief  at  visitations  which, 
they  say,  have  come  on  them  unlocked  for,  and  stunned 
them  by  their  suddenness  :  one  has  lost  his  possessions, 
another  his  health,  another  his  powers  of  sight  or  hearing, 
another  the  "desire  of  his  eyes,"  parents,  children,  hus- 
bands, wives,  friends  ;  each  sorrowing  for  their  own,  and 
all  alike  viewing  their  affliction  from  the  narrow  point  of 
their  own  isolated  being:  they  seem  to  be  hostile  invasions 
of  their  peace  ;  mutilations  of  the  integrity  of  their  lot  j 
untimely  disruptions  of  their  fondest  ties,  and  the  like.  In 
like  manner  as  we  speak  of  violent  deviations  of  nature 
from  her  laws,  and  of  the  mysterious  agencies  of  devastating 
powers  ;  so  we  talk  of  the  destruction  of  a  fortune,  the 
breaking  up  of  our  happiness,  the  wreck  of  our  hopes. 
Now  all  this  loose  and  faithless  language  arises  from  our 
not  recognising  the  great  law  to  which  all  these  are  to  be 
referred.  It  is  no  more  than  this :  that  God  is  disposing  of 
what  has  been  offered  up  to  Him  in  sacrifice  :  as,  for  in- 
stance, when  a  father  or  mother  bewails  the  taking  away 
of  a  child,  have  they  not  forgotten  that  he  was  not  their 
own  ?  Did  they  not  offer  him  at  the  font  ?  Did  not  God 
promise  to  receive  their  oblation  ?  What  has  He  done  more 
than  take  them  at  their  word  ?  They  prayed  that  He 
would  make  their  child  to  be  His  "  own  child  b}^  adoption  :" 


XVIL]  TRUE  IDEA  OF  OBEDIENCE.  203 

and  He  has  not  only  heard,  but  fulfilled  their  prayer.  Have 
they  not  perpetually*  since  that  day,  asked  for  him  the  king- 
dom of  heaven,  even  as  the  mother  of  Zebedee's  children 
came  and  besought  that  her  two  sons  might  sit,  the  one  on 
His  right  hand,  and  the  other  on  His  left,  in  His  kingdom  ? 
And  like  them,  they  knew  not  what  they  asked  :  they  were 
desiring  a  high  blessing,  awful  in  its  height  ;  for  which,  if 
granted,  they  may  have  to  go  sorrowing,  because  God  has 
heard  their  prayer,  and  a  sword  has  pierced  through  their 
own  soul  also.  In  an  especial  manner  this  seems  true  of 
the  death  of  infants.  They  were  offered  up  to  Him,  and 
He  took  them  to  Himself.  So  that  they  be  His,  who  dare 
lament  that  He  has  chosen  the  place  where  they  shall  stand 
and  minister  before  Him?  Little,  it  may  be,  the  glad  mo- 
ther thought,  as  she  stood  beside  the  font,  what  she  was 
then  doing  ;  little  did  she  forecast  what  was  to  come,  or 
read  the  meaning  of  her  own  acts  and  prayers.  And  so 
likewise,  when  any  true  servants  of  Christ  are  taken  away, 
what  is  it  but  a  token  of  His  favorable  acceptance  of  their 
self-oblation  ?  They  have  been  His  from  baptism,  and  He 
has  granted  them  a  long  season  of  tarrying  in  this  outer 
court  of  His  temple.  But  now,  at  length,  the  time  is  come ; 
and  when  we  see  them  "  bow  the  head,  and  give  up  the 
ghost,"  is  it  not  our  slowness  of  heart  that  makes  even  our 
eyes  also  to  be  holden,  so  as  not  to  see  who  is  standing  nigh, 
conforming  them  to  His  own  great  sacrifice  ?  While  they 
were  with  us,  they  were  not  ours,  but  His  :  they  were  per- 
mitted to  abide  with  us,  and  to  gladden  our  hearts  awhile  : 
but  they  were  living  sacrifices,  and  ever  at  the  point  of  being 
caught  up  to  heaven. 

And  so,  lastly,  in  all  that  befalls  ourselves,  we  too  are 
not  our  own  but  His  ;  all  that  we  call  ours  is  His  ;  and 
when  He  takes  it  from  us — first  one  loved  treasure,  then 


204  SELF-OBLATION  THE  [Serm.  XVIL 

another,  till  He  makes  us  poor,  and  naked,  and  solitary — 
let  us  not  sorrow  that  we  are  stripped  of  all  we  love,  but 
rather  rejoice  for  that  God  accepts  us  :  let  us  not  think  that 
we  are  left  here,  as  it  were,  unseasonably  alone,  but  re- 
member that,  by  our  bereavements,  we  are  in  part  translated 
to  the  world  unseen.  He  is  calling  us  away,  and  sending 
on  our  treasures.  The  great  law  of  sacrifice  is  embracing 
us,  and  must  have  its  perfect  work.  Like  Him,  we  must 
be  made  "  perfect  through  suffering."  Let  us  pray  Him, 
therefore,  to  shed  abroad  in  us  the  mind  that  was  in  Christ ; 
that,  our  will,  being  crucified,  we  may  offer  up  ourselves  to 
be  disposed  of  as  he  sees  best,  whether  for  joy  or  sorrow, 
blessing  or  chastisement ;  to  be  high,  or  low  ;  to  be  slighted, 
or  esteemed  ;  to  be  full,  or  to  suffer  need  ;  to  have  many 
friends,  or  to  dwell  in  a  lonely  home  ;  to  be  passed  by,  or 
called  to  serve  Him  and  His  kingdom  in  our  own  land,  or 
among  people  of  a  strange  tongue ;  to  be,  to  go,  to  do,  to 
suffer  even  as  He  wills,  even  as  He  ordains,  even  as  Christ 
endured,  "  who,  through  the  Eternal  Spirit,  offered  Himself 
without  spot  to  God."     Amen. 


SERMON  XVIII. 


THE  SPIRITUAL  CROSS. 


St.  Matthew  xxvii.  46, 
"  About  the  ninth  hour,  Jesus  cried  with  a  loud  voice,  saying,  Eli- 
Eli,  lama  sabacthani  ?  that  is  to  say,  My  God,  my  God,  why  hast 
Thou  forsaken  me  ?" 

I  HAVE  chosen  these  awful  words,  spoken  in  our  Lord's  last 
agony,  that  we  may  have,  by  the  help  of  the  Eternal  Spirit, 
through  whom  He  offered  Himself  to  God,  a  fuller  and  truer 
understanding  of  the  depth  of  His  bitter  passion.  The  feel- 
ings of  our  lower  nature  so  strongly  draw  us  to  dwell  on 
the  crucifixion  which  he  suffered  in  the  flesh,  that  we  think 
loo  little  of  the  mystery  of  His  spiritual  agon}'.  And  yet 
the  pains  He  suffered  m  the  body  are  but  faint  tokens  of 
the  agony  He  suffered  in  the  soul.  The  torment  of  the 
fleshly  crucifixion,  unutterably  great  as  it  was,  lasted  for  a 
few  hours  only,  and  for  once  ;  but  His  spiritual  agony  was 
at  all  times  throughout  His  ministry  on  earth.  He  suffered 
day  by  day.  His  last  sufferings  in  the  flesh  were  not 
endured  alone ;  they  were  shared  by  two  men  like  our- 
selves, and  their  fleshly  pangs  outlasted  His.  But  He  was 
suffering  a  twofold  crucifixion.     His  cross  was,  as  it  were, 


206  THE  SPIRITUAL  CROSS.  [Serm, 

a  sacrament  of  sorrows,  having  an  outward  and  an  inward 
anguish.  Olit  e3''es  fasten  on  the  material  cross,  the  outward 
and  earthlier,  the  more  human  portion  of  His  sufferings: 
but  His  intenser  agonies  were  all  within  ;  His  keenest  anguish 
was  the  spiritual  cross :  and  this  is  what  we  will  now  for  a 
while  consider. 

Ill  these  words  of  the  twenty-second  Psalm,  it  is  plain 
that  He  spoke  of  more  than  His  agonising  death.  They 
were  no  doubt  in  part  wrung  from  Him  by  the  torment  of 
His  wounded  body ;  but  they  have  a  deeper  meaning. 
This  forsaking  was  manifestly  one  of  a  more  awful  and 
oppressive  kind.  Of  such  a  holy  mystery  it  is  hard  to  speak 
without  seeming  to  be  guilty  of  an  over-boldness,  which 
makes  our  thoughts  sound  like  irreverence  :  it  is  a  depth 
rather  to  be  mused  over  than  to  be  spoken  of:  so  that  when 
we  hear  our  own  thoughts  aloud,  they  seem  almost  more 
than  we  designed  to  venture  on. 

Let  us,  then,  consider  the  nature  of  His  spiritual  cross. 
It  was  the  being  brought  under  all  the  conditions  of  a  sinner, 
though  Himself  without  sin.  Sin  tried  upon  Him  all  its 
powers;  first  to  lure,  afterwards  to  destroy.  As,  for  in- 
stance : 

1.  He  was  tempted  by  direct  suggestions  of  evil.  We 
read  that  He  "  was  led  up  of  the  Spirit  into  the  wilderness 
to  be  tempted  of  the  devil."  It  was  a  foremost  part  of  His 
warfare  with  the  powers  of  spiritual  wickedness.  All  before 
Him  had  sinned.  Satan  had  won  his  masteries  over  all. 
The  first  man  Adam,  the  patriarchs,  prophets,  and  saints, 
all  God's  earthly  servants  in  their  day  had  sinned.  Hidi- 
erto  the  prince  of  this  world  had  triumphed,  carrying  all 
before  him.  But  now  was  manifested  one  more  servant  of 
God,  with  whom  the  whole  contest  lay.  He  was  brought  into 
the  world  as  the  leader  and  prince  of  saints  ;  and  all  powers 


XVIII.]  THE  SPIRITUAL  CROSS.  207 

of  evil  thronged  about  Him.  How  far  the  true  mystery  of 
His  person  was  known,  is  not  revealed  to  us:  but  we  find 
the  tempter  saying,  "  If  thou  be  the  Son  of  God,"  plainly 
showing  that  he  knew  at  least  the  name  of  Jesus.  Be  this 
as  it  may,  all  powers  of  evil  gathered  upon  Him,  and 
strove  with  Him.  He  was  assailed  with  a  temptation  to 
mistrust  His  heavenly  Father,  to  be  vainly  confident  of 
God's  protection,  to  forego  His  own  allegiance  and  homage 
for  a  mighty  bribe.  x\ll  these  suggestions  of  evil  were  made 
to  pass  vividly  before  His  spiritual  consciousness  ;  and  who 
shall  conceive  the  pangs  of  such  a  trial?  The  lures  of  sin 
are  hateful  just  in  the  measure  of  the  holiness  of  the  person 
that  is  tempted.  A  sinner  has  no  distress  in  the  worst  so- 
licitations of  evil  ;  even  though  resisted,  it  is  not  the  solici- 
tation, but  the  self-denial  that  grieves  and  galls  him.  A 
holy  man  has  bitterness  in  his  very  soul  at  the  consciousness 
of  being  tempted,  and,  in  resisting,  is  refreshed  by  a  sense 
of  mastery  ;  but  the  conception  of  evil  in  his  heart  is  full  of 
shame  and  sorrow.  And  so  to  the  end  of  life  ;  as  men  grow 
in  holiness,  they  grow  in  a  keen  sensitiveness  of  soul,  which 
makes  temptation  all  but  intolerable.  But  with  the  Holy 
One  who  can  express  the  affliction  of  being  the  direct  subject 
of  temptation  ?  To  hate  evil  as  God  hates  it,  and  to  be  tempt- 
ed as  man  is  tempted,  is  a  humiliation  and  a  sorrow,  as  of  iron 
entering  into  the  soul.  Surely  all  the  after-assaults  of  spirit- 
ual wickedness  to  destroy  His  life  were  as  nothing,  compared 
to  the  awful  mystery  of  being  addressed  by  the  allurements 
of  sin.  These  approaches  of  the  wicked  one  were  made  to 
the  will  of  the  Son  of  God,  with  the  design  of  withdrawing 
the  consent  of  His  pure  soul  from  His  heavenly  Father. 
They  were  a  thousand-fold  more  hateful  and  harrowing 
than  the  falsehood  of  His  suborned  accusers,  or  the  scourg- 
ino[  of  His  sinless  flesh. 


208  THE  SPIRITUAL  CROSS.  [Serm. 

2.  Again ;  He  suffered  a  perpetual  unmingled  sorrow 
for  the  sins  of  men.     All  the  day  long  He  was  the  mark  of 
their  gainsaying  and  contradiction.     Every  form  of  false- 
hood, unfair  dealing,  misinterpretation,  insidious   address, 
malignant  slander,  were  heaped  upon  Him.     All  around 
Him  He  beheld  a  conscious  resistance  of  the  light  of  truth. 
Very  keen  is  the  suffering  of  false  construction  from  deaf 
and  prejudiced  hearts.     We  know  little  of  it;  but  that  little 
is  enough.     There    is    an  unreasonableness    about   minds 
heated  into  opposition  which  nothing  can  allay ;  and  minds 
otherwise   not    corrupt   pass  on   into  obstinate   and   sinful 
perversity.     All  this  He  suffered  so  as  never  man  endured 
before.     The  lawyers  stood  up  and  questioned,  tempting 
Him ;  the  Pharisees  and  Herodians  sought  to  entangle  Him 
in  His  talk:  others  watched  His  words,  that  they  might  find 
wherein  to  accuse  Him.     They  gave  to  His  words   such 
refined  perversions  of  meaning,  as  are  manifold  more  cutting 
than  the  blackest  falsehood.     Slander  is  characteristically 
devilish.     They    reviled    Him   for   the  works  which  they 
could  not  deny.     "  He  casteth  out  devils  by  Beelzebub  the 
prince  of  the  devils."     "  Say  we  not  well,  that  thou  art  a 
Samaritan,   and  hast  a  devil?"     We  can  conceive  very 
little  of  this  bitter  sorrow ;  for  in  Him  it  was  dashed  with  a 
far  bitterer  taste,  of  which  we  can  know  still  less.     The 
sorest  and  most  hateful  part  of  this  contradiction  was  the 
ingratitude  of  man.    With  the  full  foresight  of  all  He  should 
suffer  for  their  sakes,  and  the  consciousness  that  all  He 
then    suffered  was   for  their  salvation.   He  bore   at  their 
hands  all  manner  of  wrong  and  subtilty.     And  to  this  sense 
of  their  ingratitude  was  joined  a  knowledge  of  their  self- 
destruction.     Sad  and  woful  sight  in  the  eyes  of  Him  by 
whom  all  things  were  made,  to  see  mankind,  God's  chiefest 
creature  in    this  visible  world,   marred    from    its  original 


XVIII.]  THE  SPIRITUAL  CROSS.  209 

holiness,  "earthly,  sensual,  devilish."  To  Him  the  depths 
of  this  alienation  were  ever  open  ;  He  saw  the  world  of" 
enmity  against  God  which  had  entered  the  soul  of  man. 
And  doubtless  as  He  read  the  whole  outline  of  the  fall,  in 
each  sinner  that  reviled,  or  lay  in  wait  to  ensnare  Him,  so 
did  He  look  on  to  the  working  out  of  the  mystery  of 
iniquity  in  the  new  creation  of  God.  "  Have  I  not  chosen 
you  twelve?  and  one  of  you  is  a  devil."  Surely  the  sin  of 
Judas  sat  upon  His  heart  before  that  last  hour,  when  He 
said,  "My  soul  is  exceeding  sorrowful,  even  unto  death." 
He  carried  about  with  Him  the  daily  burden  of  the  fore- 
seen sins  of  His  enemies  and  of  His  friends.  All  the  awful 
guilt  of  His  last  passion,  the  betrayal,  the  false  judgment, 
the  impious  mockery,  the  scourge,  the  cross,  the  self- 
accursing  cry  of  God's  apostate  people,  were  all  foretasted  ; 
and  surely  the  forsaking  of  His  Apostles,  and  the  denial  of 
Peter,  were  not  veiled  from  His  sight.  And  He  that  after- 
wards, in  the  isle  of  Patmos,  unfolded  before  the  eyes  of 
St.  John  the  stream  of  the  world's  history,  and  the  fortunes 
of  His  Church  on  earth,  daily  foresaw  all  things  that  should 
come  hereafter.  The  sin  of  the  world,  and,  worse  than  all, 
the  sin  of  His  Church,  lay  heavily  upon  Him  day  by  day. 
Shall  we  not  believe  that  the  schisms,  and  strife,  and 
mutual  conflict  of  Churches,  the  dying  out  of  light,  the 
darkening  of  truth,  the  growth  of  false  traditions,  the  falling 
away  of  the  latter  times,  and  all  the  chequered  train  of 
these  eighteen  hundred  3'ear3,  were  all  before  His  sight  in 
whom  dwelt  "all  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  bodily?" 
Sin  in  all  its  mysteries  of  origin,  and  depth,  and  breadth, 
and  all  its  masteries,  even  to  the  end  of  the  world,  were 
spread  before  Him  who  was,  by  peculiar  title,  "  the  Man 
of  Sorrows,"  "  the  Lamb  that  takeih  away  the  sin  of  the 
world."    And  as  He  said  to  the  women  that  bewailed  Him, 

VOL.   I.-14. 


210  THE  SPIRITUAL  CROSS.  [Sekm, 

when  He  was  led  away  to  Calvary,  "  Daughters  of  Jeru- 
salem, weep  not  for  me  ;  but  weep  for  yourselves  and  for 
your  children.  For,  behold,  the  days  are  coming,  in  the 
which  they  shall  say,  Blessed  are  the  barren,  and  the 
wombs  that  never  bare,  and  the  paps  which  never  gave 
suck.  Then  shall  they  begin  to  say  to  the  mountains,  Fall 
on  us ;  and  to  the  hills.  Cover  us.  For  if  they  do  these 
things  in  the  green  tree,  what  shall  be  done  in  the  dry?"* 
— so  doubtless  the  destinies  of  His  Church  on  earth  stood 
like  a  lowering  horizon  behind  the  mount  of  crucifixion. 
The  rents  and  wounds  of  His  mystical  body  already  pierced 
His  spirit  j  and  the  false  kiss  which  the  world  should  give, 
to  the  betra3'al  of  His  Church  ;  and  the  afflictions  of  His 
saints,  and  the  tj^ranny  of  the  strong,  and  the  pampered 
self-pleasing  of  soft  spirits,  and  the  plagues  of  worldliness, 
and  the  foreseen  apostacy  of  the  latter  days — all  these 
dwelt  heavily  on  Him  to  whom  all  things  to  come  are  as 
things  that  are. 

3.  And,  once  more ;  He  suffered,  throughout  we  know- 
not  how  large  a  portion  of  His  whole  life,  the  natural  fear 
of  death  and  of  His  coming  agon^^  It  is  strange  that,  while 
we  dv^ell  chiefly  on  the  thought  of  His  fleshly  crucifixion, 
we  so  hastily  pass  by  these  natural  affections  of  our  man- 
hood wherewith  He  was  encompassed.  In  His  lifetime  we 
forget  His  fleshly  nature  in  His  spiritual ;  at  His  death  we 
forget  His  spiritual  in  His  fleshly.  Now  it  is  plain  that  His 
whole  life,  so  far  as  revealed  to  us  in  the  Gospel,  was  full 
of  a  sad  and  afflicting  foresight  of  the  cup  wliich  His  Father 
should  give  Him  :  therefore  He  was  wont  to  say,  "  Mine 
hour  is  not  yet  come ; "  and  therefore  He  spoke  of  the 
"  sign  of  the  prophet  Jonas  ;  "  and  of  His  lifting  up.  The 
fear  of  death  is  one  of  the  sinless  infirmities  of  our  man- 

*  St.  Luke  xxiii.  28-31. 


XVIIL]  THE  SPIRITUAL  CROSS.  2}1 

hood ;  and  this  He  bare  no  less  than  thirst  or  hunger. 
We  know  with  what  a  piercing  strength  the  first  glimpses 
of  a  coming  sorrow  shoot  in  upon  us  :  how  they  chequer  our 
whole  life,  and  overshadow  all  things  ;  how  sad  thoughts 
glance  off  from  all  we  do,  or  say,  or  listen  to;  how  the 
mind  converts  every  thing  into  its  own  feeling  and  master- 
thought.  Even  the  smallest  things  in  life  have  great  capa- 
cities of  sorrow,  and  hold  great  measures  of  sadness.  It  is 
not  only  on  the  greater  and  more  set  occasions  that  our 
afflictions  overwhelm  us.  Perhaps  our  keenest  sufferings 
are  in  sudden  recollections,  remote  associations,  indirect 
hints,  words,  tones,  little  acts  of  unconscious  friends.  And 
even  so  it  was  with  Him.  It  was  not  only  when  Moses 
and  Elias,  in  the  mount  of  the  transfiguration,  allayed  the 
brightness  of  His  glory  by  speaking  of  the  "decease  which 
He  should  accomplish  at  Jerusalem,"  but  in  all  the  lesser 
events  of  life  His  coming  agony  rose  up  before  Him. 
When  a  lowly  woman  anointed  Him  with  ointment,  He 
saw  in  it  the  preparations  of  the  grave  :  "  She  hath  anointed 
my  body  to  the  burying."  The  very  spikenard  had  in  it 
the  savor  of  death.  "  Are  ye  able  to  drink  of  the  cup  that 
I  shall  drink  of,  and  to  be  baptised  with  the  baptism  that  I 
am  baptised  with  ?  "  "I  have  a  baptism  to  be  baptised 
withal,  and  how  am  I  straitened  till  it  be  accomplished  ! " 
And,  as  the  time  drew  nigh,  this  sinless  shrinking  of"  our 
manhood  from  the  agonies  of  His  passion  was  more  clearlv 
manifested.  He  grew,  if  I  may  so  speak,  fuller  of  the 
thought,  and  began  to  teach  His  disciples  how  many  things 
He  must  suffer  ;*  foretelling  every  step  of  His  last  afflictions, 
from  His  betrayal  to  His  cross  ;  and  when  the  hour  was 
come.  He  was  straitened  with  a  sinless  impatience  for  its 
accomplishment  ;  and  He  bade  the  traitor  to  do  his  work 

*  St.  Matthew  xvi.  21,  aud  xx.  18,  13. 


ry 


212  THE  SPIRITUAL  CROSS.  [Serm. 

with  a  friendly  speed:  "What  thou  doest  do  quickly:" 
and  afterwards  in  the  garden,  when  He  had  said,  "  My 
soul  is  exceeding  sorrowful,  even  unto  death,"*  who  shall 
venture  to  imagine  what  were  His  hidden  agonies ;  what  it 
was  that  thrice  wrung  from  Him,  even  after  the  act  of 
self-oblation,  "  Father,  if  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass 
from  me ; "  what  visions,  it  may  be,  of  the  cup  and  of  the 
cross  were  held  out  to  Him  ;  how  He  wrestled,  until  by  a 
direct  consent,  and  choice  of  the  will,  He  drank  it,  in  fore- 
taste, to  the  dregs?  As  yet  His  fleshly  crucifixion  had  not 
begun.  It  was  His  spiritual  cross;  the  sharp  inward  wound- 
ing of  the  soul,  that  crucified  even  the  body  before  its  time, 
and  impressed  its  passion  upon  His  earthlier  nature.  "  His 
sweat  was  as  it  were  great  drops  of  blood  falling  down  to 
the  ground."! 

4.  And,  as  the  chief  of  all  His  sorrows,  He  suffered  we 
know  not  what  darkness  of  soul  upon  the  cross.  True  it 
is,  that  the  Holy  One  of  God,  even  when  most  beset  by 
afflictions  from  without,  was  calm  and  radiant  within. 
The  brightness  of  His  Father's  face  shone  secretly  in  upon 
Him.  To  Him,  as  to  all  saints  of  God,  all  the  avenues  of 
heaven  were  open.  The  pure  lights  and  soft  dews  of  His 
Father's  kingdom  were  His  continual  refreshment.  It  was 
not  for  His  own  sake  that  He  endured  a  darkness  of  soul ; 
neither  for  His  own  sake  did  He  hunger  or  thirst,  or  become 
man,  or  die:  so,  likewise,  whatsoever  mysterious  desolation 
of  heart  came  upon  Him,  He  endured  as  the  Saviour  of 
sinners.  He  was  "  made  sin  for  us."  He  was  made  to 
know  the  wages  of  sin,  even  as  sinners  must  needs  know 
it.  Desolation  of  soul,  and  the  forsaking  of  the  light  of 
God's  countenance,  is  our  portion  in  the  lot  of  sinners:  and 
this  He  suffered  even  as  He  suffered  the  scourge  and  the 

*  h"t.  Matthew  xxvi.  38.  t  St.  Luke  xxii.  44. 


\ 


XVIII.]  THE  SPIRITUAT,  CROSS.  213 

crown  of  thorns.  It  may  be  that,  as  soul  and  body  were 
afterwards  separated,  so  the  shining  of  His  Father's  face 
was  for  a  time  concealed.  He  learned  the  full  misery  of 
fallen  man.  Of  all  His  passion  we  know  but  a  little  part : 
His  "unknown  sufferings"  were  beyond  them  all ;  of  them 
we  can  know  nothing.  We  can  gather  them  only  from  His 
own  words,  few  and  broken,  when  He  was  passing  through 
His  hidden  agonies  :  "  If  it  be  possible,"  and  "  Why  hast 
Thou  forsaken  me?"  But,  what  death  is:  what  shall  be 
after  death  :  what,  in  the  hour  of  passing,  is  the  world 
which  lies  between  the  sinner's  soul  and  God :  to  what 
mysterious  nearness  of  conformity  to  the  doom  of  a  trans- 
gressor He  humbled  Himself  for  our  redemption  from  death 
and  hell,  is  not  revealed:  all  this,  whatsoever  it  be,  He 
suffered.     But  we  are  speaking  of  what  we  know  not. 

This,  then,  is  a  dim  outline  of  His  spiritual  cross.  The 
visible  sufferings  on  Calvary  were  the  filling  up  of  His 
afflictions,  and  the  symbol  or  revelation  of  His  hidden 
agonies :  and  it  was  in  these  that  the  full  mastery  over  sin 
was  chiefly  won.  The  body,  though  a  partaker  both  in  sin 
and  death,  is  not  the  chief  either  in  the  transgression  or 
the  penalty,  but  the  spirit  of  man.  It  was  on  his  spiritual 
nature  that  God's  image  was  stamped  in  the  beginning  ; 
and  through  the  power  of  that  spiritual  being  he  became  a 
rebel  against  God.  The  soul  was  the  seat  of  the  rebellion  ; 
there  it  was  that  the  powers  of  spiritual  wickedness  erected 
their  dominion ;  and  in  that  same  region  of  His  being,  the 
Man  who  alone  was  without  sin  suffered  all  the  penalty 
which  sin  had  drawn  upon  the  world.  In  a  word,  what 
pain  is  to  the  body,  sorrow  is  to  the  soul.  The  scourge, 
the  crown  of  thorns,  and  the  cross,  are,  as  it  were,  a  parable 
of  bitterness,  anguish,  and  affliction. 

Now  from  all  this  we  may  understand  what  that  cross 


214  THE  SPIRITUAL  CROSS.  [Serm. 

is  of  which  all  must  be  partakers  :  not  the  visible  material 
cross,  but  that  which  is  more  real  than  the  reality  of  fleshly 
crucifixion.  It  is  not  so  much  by  sufferings  in  the  body  as 
in  the  spirit  that  we  are  likened  to  Him.  The  raihng  thief 
was  more  nearly  conformed  to  His  visible  passion  than  all, 
save  one  or  two,  in  all  the  multitude  of  saints.  Yet,  though 
conformed  to  Him  in  the  flesh,  he  was  not  likened  to  Him 
in  spirit.  St.  John  and  the  blessed  Virgin  did  not  suffer 
indeed  in  the  flesh,  yet  they  were  truly  nailed  with  Him 
upon  His  cross.  So  in  all  ages  of  the  Church,  kings  and 
princes,  no  less  than  bishops  and  pastors  of  His  flock,  not 
only  in  sackcloth  and  solitude,  but  in  soft  clothing  and  in 
the  throng  of  royal  courts,  have  borne  the  marks  of  the  Lord 
Jesus,  and  shared  the  reality  of  His  passion.  Weak  women 
too,  moving  in  silence  and  a  veil,  unseen  of  the  world,  and 
never  breathed  on  by  its  rough  oppositions,  have  both  car- 
ried their  cross  with  Him,  and  on  it  hung  beside  Him. 
They  have  died  with  Him  in  will,  and  in  sacrifice  of  self; 
in  mortif3'ing  the  choices  and  affections  of  their  earthlier 
nature  ;  in  a  glad  forsaking  of  bright  hopes  and  fair 
promises  in  life,  sitting  at  His  feet  without  distraction,  and 
bearing  withal  a  burden  of  many  sorrows,  partly  the  awful 
tokens  of  their  Master's  love,  and  partly  laid  upon  them  by 
the  wrong  and  enmity  of  the  world.  Among  many  samples, 
let  this  one  suffice.  We  read  in  the  life  of  one  to  whom 
was  meted  out  a  death-sickness  of  uncommon  anguish,  that 
as  she  drew  near  the  end,  for  a  long  season  she  was  un- 
cheered  by  the  Divine  consolations  which  were  the  wonted 
stay  of  her  soul.  She  complained  in  sadness  to  her  spiritual 
guide  of  this  strange  and  appalling  desolation,  until  she 
learned  to  read  in  it  the  gift  of  a  higher  measure  of  con- 
formity to  Him,  who  in  His  last  passion  cried  aloud,  "  My 
God,   my  God,  why  hast  Thou    forsaken  me?"     In  like 


XVIII.]  THE  SPIRITUAL  CROSS.  215 

manner  there  is  many  a  sorrow  fearfully  hidden  from  the 
world's  hard  gaze,  many  an  overlooked  affliction,  many  a 
piercing  of  heart  by  the  thorns  and  sharpness  of  our  common 
griefs,  which  not  the  less,  when  borne  in  silence  for  God, 
make  the  mourning  spirit  to  partake  of  His  mysterious  cross. 
There  is  one  more  truth  that  we  may  learn  from  what 
has  been  said.  I  mean,  what  necessity  there  is  that  all 
should  thus  be  crucified  with  Him.  Sin  is  an  inward  and 
unseen  malady  •  though  manifested  in  act,  its  origin  and 
being  is  in  the  spirit.  "  Out  of  the  heart  proceed  evil 
thoughts;"  therefore  its  overthrow  must  be  by  an  inward 
mastery  :  and  this  is  to  be  won  only  by  suffering  the  buffet- 
ings  of  sin,  rather  than  yield  to  its  dominion.  The  strife  is 
within  a  man.  It  is  by  a  patient  wrestling  with  temptation; 
by  a  steady  rule  over  our  own  temper  ;  by  a  life  of  high 
and  severe  fellowship  with  Christ,  that  we  must  be  likened 
to  Him.  There  is  no  smoother,  no  other  way  of  eternal  life. 
Let  this  be  a  warning  to  all  sinful,  shallow  Christians ;  to 
all  easy,  formal,  exterior  minds  ;  and  to  the  worldly,  self- 
sparing,  and  light-hearted.  The}'  that  have  no  fellowship 
with  the  Man  of  Sorrows  have  no  share  of  His  cross,  no 
promise  of  His  crown.  Let  this  be  also  a  consolation  for 
all  the  blessed  company  of  the  sorrowful ;  for  all  who,  with 
a  pricked  or  broken  heart,  are  moving  upward  against  the 
stream  of  this  visible  world,  which  bears  down  in  a  heavy 
tide  away  from  God.  They  must  be  buffeted  by  it,  or  be 
borne  along  with  it.  But  all  this  is  likening  them  to  the 
Lord  of  sufferings,  and  making  them  partakers  of  His 
sorrow.  In  a  little  time  all  will  be  over.  It  is  sharp  and 
piercing,  but  it  cleanses  and  purifies :  it  moulds  and  draws 
the  spirit  into  the  form  of  the  Son  of  God ;  it  puts  in  the 
sharper  lines  and  the  deeper  coloring;  it  is  as  the  shadow 
of  His  crown  of  thorns.     Blessed  are  they  that  have  entered 


fam 


216  THE  SPIRITUAL  CROSS.  [Serm.  XVIIL 

into  the  company  of  mourners  :  life  has  nothing  more  for 
them  either  to  hope  or  fear ;  they  linger  on  in  this  visible 
world,  but  their  true  life  is  in  the  world  unseen.  Blessed 
lot !  how  calm,  liow  even,  how  unmoved !  all  has  been 
suffered :  they  are  "  afraid  of  no  evil  tidings,"  of  no  new 
and  sudden  strokes  ;  all  is  known.  No  joy  nor  sorrow  now 
can  shake  them  from  their  rest.  They  are  of  his  fellowship 
who  said,  "Henceforth  let  no  man  trouble  me:  for  I  bear 
in  my  body  the  marks  of  the  Lord  Jesus."* 

*  GaL  vi.  17. 


SERMON  XIX. 


THE  HIDDEN  POWER  OF  CHRIST'S  PASSION. 


St.  John  xii.  32. 
"  And  I,  if  I  be  lifted  up  from  the  earth,  will  draw  all  men  unto  me." 

Our  blessed  Lord  here  reveals  the  great  end  of  all  His 
holy  passion.  He  was  lifted  up  from  the  earth,  nailed  upon 
the  tree,  that  He  might  draw  all  men  from  all  nations,  both 
Jews  and  Gentiles,  to  Himself.  By  His  precious  blood- 
shedding,  He  took  away  the  sin  of  the  world  :  and  by  the 
mighty  virtues  of  that  one  great  sacrifice,  He  has  been  gath- 
ering together  again  in  one  body  the  children  of  God  who 
are  scattered  abroad. 

First,  then,  in  these  words  He  foretells  the  gathering  out 
and  knitting  together  of  His  mystical  body,  which  is  the 
Church.  From  the  time  of  His  ascension  into  heaven,  and 
the  shedding  abroad  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  He  has  been  work- 
ing unseen  upon  the  spirits  of  mankind  ;  He  has  been 
drawing  together  the  living  stones  of  His  spiritual  house  ; 
by  the  apostolic  priesthood,  by  preaching,  by  His  holy  sa- 
craments, by  the  interweaving  of  His  providential  govern- 


218  THE  HIDDEN  POWER  OF  [Serm. 

ment  with  the  working  of  man's  will,  and  by  all  the  won- 
derful mutalionsof  two  thousand  years;  by  the  movements 
of  the  reason  of  man,  and  by  what  men  call  the  civilisation 
of  the  world  ;  by  the  rise  and  fall  of  empires,  and  the  or- 
ganised systems  of  human  politics.  He  has  thus  been 
working  out  this  great  all-comprehending  aim — the  perfec- 
tion of  His  Church.  First,  He  drew  a  remnant  of  the  Jews 
to  the  foot  of  His  mystical  cross  :  then  to  them  He  drew  the 
Gentiles,  first  proselytes,  then  they  that  before  were 
"  strangers  from  the  covenants  of  promise  :"  laying  thereby 
in  all  the  world  the  first  foundations  of  the  Catholic  Church  : 
and  then  into  that  same  area  he  drew  people  unknown  be- 
fore by  name  :  and,  as  they  entered  into  the  holy  precinct, 
they  put  off  their  old  natures — they  came  in  as  conquerors, 
and  then  dwelt  in  it  as  conquered.  They  were  taken  in  a 
snare,  and  were  subdued  by  the  power  they  had  seemed  to 
overthrow.  And  thenceforward  in  all  ages  of  the  Church, 
He  has  wrought,  through  the  sacramental  power  of  its  visible 
polity,  upon  the  multitude  of  nations,  drawing  them  together 
into  the  bond  of  peace ;  drawing  them  upward  to  higher 
movements  of  spiritual  life ;  building  up  His  temple,  not 
only  in  the  majesty  of  its  lofty  stature,  but  in  the  glory  and 
perfection  of  its  parts.  There  has  been  not  a  change,  but  a 
growth  :  as  the  springing  or  unfolding  of  a  stately  tree;  a 
growth,  not  only  of  bulk,  but  of  beauty  ;  ever  opening  itself 
to  the  drawings  and  invitations  of  a  gentle  sky ;  so  His 
mystical  body  has  grown  from  childhood  to  youth  and  man- 
hood, throwing  out  new  powers  of  illuminated  reason  and 
of  regenerate  will,  ever  advancing  "  unto  a  perfect  man, 
unto  the  measure  of  the  stature  of  the  fulness  of  Christ." 

But  this  subject  is  too  large  for  our  present  thoughts  ; 
and  therefore  I  will  not  follow  any  further  the  mysterious 
economy  by  which  He,  through  His  Church,  draws  nations 


XIX.]  CHRIST'S  PASSION.  219 

to  Himself,  and  the  whole  body  of  His  people  to  perfection. 
We  will  confine  our  thoughts  to  a  more  particular  form  of 
this  great  work  of  mercy  ;  I  mean,  the  way  in  which,  in  His 
Church,  He  draws  men  one  by  one  unto  Himself.  Christ 
is  in  the  midst  of  His  Church.  His  eye  and  His  hand  have 
been  upon  us  from  the  hour  of  our  baptism.  He  is  ever 
drawing  us  by  His  unseen  virtues  :  we  are  all  around  Him, 
some  nearer,  some  further  off;  some  approaching,  some  re- 
ceding from  Him.  There  is  a  work  going  on,  of  which  the 
day  of  judgment  is  only  the  end  and  summing  up.  There 
is  between  those  that  follow  and  those  that  resist  His  draw- 
ings, a  real  separation  even  now.  "  His  fan  is  in  His  hand  ; 
and  He  will  thoroughly  purge  His  floor,  and  gather  the 
wheat  into  His  garner,  but  He  will  burn  up  the  chaff  wuth 
unquenchable  fire."  With  those,  however,  that  resent  His 
gracious  drawings,  I  have  nothing  now  to  do.  Lotus  speak 
only  of  those  who  are  approaching,  be  it  never  so  slowly  and 
far  ofl^,  the  foot  of  the  spiritual  cross  ;  and  of  these  I  pass 
by  penitents,  and  the  first  and  imperfect  forms  of  a  mind 
which  is  under  the  power  of  its  second  regeneration,  as  re- 
pentance was  wont  to  be  called  ;  because  in  His  sight  we 
we  are  all  penitents,  and  because  the  degrees  of  such  char- 
acters are  infinite,  and  because  they  will  be  ultimately 
included  in  the  more  general  forms,  of  which  we  shall  speak 
hereafter. 

He  is,  I  say,  in  the  midst  of  His  Church,  and  we  are 
ranged  around  Him  in  many  measures  of  approach,  as  if  we 
were  in  the  many  courts  or  precincts  which  surround  His 
eternal  throne. 

First,  and  farthest  off,  among  the  better  kind,  are  blame- 
less and  amiable  people ;  against  whom  no  greater  charge 
can  be  laid,  than  that  they  are  harmless,  unemphatic  Chris- 
tians ;  there  is  nothing  high  or  deep   about  them — nothing 


#. 


220  THE  HIDDEN  POWER  OF  [Serm. 

that  has  any  meaning  below  the  surface  of  their  life.  They 
have  no  great  measure  of  devotion,  and  of  contemplation 
still  less ;  they  want  awe  and  reverence,  because  they  lack 
a  consciousness  of  things  unseen.  And  hence  their  charac- 
ters are  shallow  and  disappointing :  they  raise,  and  dash, 
your  hopes  of  them  in  turn:  they  fall  short  both  of  your 
expectations  and  of  their  own  resolutions.  It  seems  as  if 
their  nature  were  incapable  of  taking  a  sharp  and  true  im- 
pression. They  mix  in  the  world,  and  are  highly  esteemed, 
because  they  are  amiable  :  but  no  man  is  awed  by  them : 
for,  after  all,  they  are  poor  characters.  Now  even  such  as 
these  are  ever  drawing  nearer  to  Him  ;  but  their  slight 
retrogressions  are  so  many,  and  their  advance  so  slow,  that 
it  is  imperceptible.  By  measuring  together  large  periods 
of  their  life,  the  change  may  be  detected  :  on  a  death-bed  it 
is  perhaps  seen  more  plainly.  But  there  is  an  original  fault 
about  them,  in  some  region  of  their  spiritual  life  ;  something 
which  retards  their  advance,  and  ever  keeps  them  back. 
Of  such  men  it  is  hard  to  know  what  we  shall  say. 

Again  ;  there  are  those  who,  to  all  that  I  have  described, 
add  further,  an  inward  conformity  in  many  lesser  fea- 
tures to  the  mind  of  Christ.  They  have  feeling  and  zeal, 
and  are  visibly  and  sensibly  religious ;  so  much  so,  as  to 
bear  at  least  a  shadow  of  the  cross  for  His  name's  sake. 
They  love  the  meditative  parts  of  religion,  the  poetry  and 
imagery  of  faith,  and  the  consolations  of  Christianity.  They 
have,  unawares,  gone  so  deep  into  religion,  that  they  cannot 
go  back.  They  cannot  do  without  it ;  and  onward  they 
must  go.  Yet  they  are  not  near  enough  to  Him  to  be  at 
rest.  Still  they  are  afraid  of  going  too  near,  and  trusting 
Him  wholly.  There  is  much  in  them  which  would  be  pre- 
cipitated, as  it  were,  by  a  closer  approach  to  Him ;  and 
they  are   not  yet  willing  to  forego  it.     Nevertheless,  they 


XIX.]  CHRIST'S  PASSION.  221 

often  pray  for  this  ;  and  are  convinced  that  He,  and  He 
only,  is  enough  so  to  fill  all  their  heart,  that  if  they  had  His 
presence,  they  should  want  nothing  more.  Such  men  are 
good  Christians,  but  hardly  saints;  for  that  word  has  a 
deeper  sense  than  they  as  yet  can  bear.  There  are  too 
many  reserved  affections,  and  hopes,  and  wishes,  yet  cling- 
ing to  them.  But  He  will  not  let  them  rest  where  they 
are  ;  unless,  indeed,  they  wilfully  go  back  from  Him.  He 
was  lifted  up  from  the  earth  for  this  very  cause,  that  He 
might  draw  them  still  onward,  nearer  to  Himself  He  loves 
them  too  well  to  let  them  linger  afar  off;  and  therefore  we 
find  such  people  ever  passing  on,  one  by  one,  often  unwil- 
lingly and  with  half  a  heart,  drawing  near  as  by  the  com- 
pulsion of  angels'  hands,  until  they  enter  another  circle  of 
approach  to  Him.  There  is  a  higher  fellowship,  to  which 
they  are  destined. 

For  there  are  those  who  are  the  true  elect ;  the  elect 
of  the  elect;  the  Christians  indeed  ;  the  chosen  ones,  with 
whom  is  "  the  white  stone,"  and  "  the  hidden  manna,"  and 
"  the  secret  of  the  Lord,"  and  the  "  new  name  which  no 
man  knoweth,  saving  he  that  receiveth  it."  On  them  the 
voice  of  Christ  fell  in  childhood  ;  or  in  riper  years,  it  may 
be  in  the  threshold  of  life,  or  in  after  life,  under  some  cloud 
and  chill  of  heart  ;  and  they  heard  it,  and  were  for  a  lonf^ 
while  amazed,  as  Samuel,  at  the  thrilling  sound,  knowinc^ 
neither  who  spake,  nor  what  to  answer.  Yet  it  pierced  their 
heart,  and  they  felt  it  could  not  stop  there.  Why,  they 
knew  not :  but  they  knew  within  themselves  that  they 
could  never  have  peace  till  they  had  heard  that  voice  again. 
They  felt  that  they  must  hear  it  more  closely  and  more 
clearly,  and  know  the  meaning  of  the  voice.  Afterwards, 
at  strange  and  unlooked-for  times,  they  have  caught,  little 
by  little,  the  will  of  Him  that  spake  :  more,  as  it  were,  from 


222  THE  HIDDEN  POWER  OF  [Serm. 

the  meaning  of  the  tone,  than  from  any  articulate  words. 
And  they   have    followed    Him   in    silence,    not   knowing 
whilher,  saying  deeply  to  themselves,  I  must  go  on.     And 
they  have  felt  a  change  passing  on  them,  as  from  a  chill  to 
warmth,  like  men  coming  up  out  of  a  grave  into  the  noon- 
day sun.     And   this  mild  guiding  power  has  drawn  them 
from  faults,  and  from  weaknesses,  and  from  vain  hanker- 
ings, and  from  the  world  :  and  they  have  begun,  as  it  were, 
to  live  anew — more  thoughtfully,  but  more   happil}^ ;  and 
they  verily  thought  the  work  was  done.     Alas   for   them  ! 
the  greatest  work  was  yet  to   be  begun.     They  were  still 
living  in   themselves  :  self,  with  its   hopes,  and  promises, 
and  dreams,  had  still  hold  of  them  ;  but  He  had  begun  to 
fulfil  their  prayers.     They  had  asked  for  contrition,  and  He 
sent  them  sorrow  ;  they  had  asked  for  purity,  and  He  sent 
them  a  thrilling  anguish  ;  they  had  asked  to  be  meek,  and 
He  had  broken  their  heart ;  they  had  asked  to  be  dead  to 
the  world,  and  He  slew  all  their  living  hopes  ;  they  had 
asked  to  be  made  like  unto  Him,  and  He  began  to  make 
them  "  perfect  through  sufferings  ;"  they  had  asked  to  lay 
hold  of  His  cross,  and  when  He  reached  it  out  to  them,  it 
wounded  their  hands  ;  the}^  had  asked  they  knew  not  what, 
nor  how,  but  He  had  taken  them  at  their  word,  and  granted 
all  their  petitions.     They  were  hardly  willing  to  follow  on 
so  far,  or  to  draw  so  nigh  to  Him.     They  had  upon  them  an 
awe  and  a  fear,  as  Jacob  at  Bethel,  and  as  Eliphaz  in  the 
night-visions  ;  or  as  the  apostles,  when  they  "  thought  that 
they  had  seen  a  spirit,"  and  "  knew  not  that  it  was  Jesus." 
They  were  not  ready  to  give  up  so  much,  to  make  so  great 
a  surrender  of  self,  to  forego  so  many  things  which  He  per- 
mits others  to  enjoy,  which  they  take  as  a  matter  of  course, 
almost  of  necessity.     The  change  in  life  was  too  searching 
and  too  deep.     They  felt  in  a  perplexity.     If  they  should 


XIX.]  CHRIST'S  PASSION.  223 

draw  back,  they  could  never  be  happy  again  ;  and  yet  they 
feared  his  nearness.  They  could  almost  pray  Him  to  de- 
part from  them,  or  to  hide  His  awfulness.  They  find  it 
easier  to  obey  Him  than  to  suffer ;  to  do  than  to  give  up ; 
to  bear  the  cross  than  to  iiang  upon  it.  They  have  found 
His  service  growing  year  by  year  more  blessed,  but  more 
awful ;  dearer  to  them,  but  more  searching  ;  more  full  of 
heaven,  but  more  exacting.  Little  did  the\'  know  to  what 
they  pledged  themselves,  when,  in  that  first  season  of  awe, 
they  arose  and  followed  His  voice.  But  now  they  cannot 
go  back  ;  for  they  a,re  too  near  to  the  unseen  cross,  and  its 
virtues  have  pierced  too  deeply  within  them.  Da}'  by  day 
they  are  giving  up  their  old  waking  dreams;  things  they 
have  pictured  out,  and  acted  over,  in  their  imaginations  and 
their  hopes  ;  one  b}'  one  they  let  them  go,  with  saddened 
but  willing  hearts.  They  feel  as  if  they  had  fallen  under 
some  irresistible  attraction,  which  is  hurrying  them  into 
the  world  unseen :  and  so  in  truth  it  is  ;  He  is  fulfilling  to 
them  His  promise,  "  And  I,  if  I  be  lifted  up  from  the  earth, 
will  draw  all  men  unto  me."  Their  turn  is  come  at  last: 
that  is  all.  Before,  they  had  only  heard  of  the  mystery  ; 
now,  they  feel  it.  He  has  fastened  on  them  His  look  of 
love,  even  as  on  Peter  and  on  Mary  ;  and  they  cannot 
choose  but  follow,  and  in  following  Him  altogether  forget 
both  themselves  and  all  their  visions  of  life.  Little  by 
little,  from  time  to  time,  by  fleeting  gleams,  the  mystery  of 
His  spiritual  cross  shines  out  upon  them.  They  behold 
Him  high  and  lifted  up,  and  the  glory  which  rays  forth 
from  the  wounds  of  His  holy  passion  ;  and  as  they  gaze 
upon  it,  they  adore,  and  are  changed  into  His  likeness; 
and  His  mind  shines  out  through  them,  for  He  dwells  in 
them.  ThejMive  alone  with  Him,  in  high  and  unspeakable 
fellowship ;    willing   and   glad   to  lack   what   others   over- 


224  THE  HIDDEN  TOWER  OF  [Serm. 

enjoy ;  to  be  unlike  all,  so  that  they  are  only  like  to  Him. 
Such  were  the  Apostles ;  such  in  all  ages  were  they  who 
now  follow  the  Lamb  whithersoever  He  goeth.  Had  they 
chosen  for  themselves,  or  their  friends  for  them,  they  would 
have  chosen  otherwise.  They  would  have  been  brighter 
here,  but  less  glorious  in  His  kingdom ;  they  would  have 
had  Lot's  portion,  not  Abraham's ;  would  have  been  full 
of  happiness  and  of  anxieties,  of  lower  blessings  and  heavier 
burdens.  If  they  had  halted  any  where  ;  if  He  had  taken 
off  His  hand,  and  let  them  hang  back,  as  they  often  yearned 
to  do,  what  would  they  not  have  lost;  v/hat  forfeits  in  the 
morning  of  the  resurrection  !  But  He  stayed  them  up  even 
against  themselves.  IMany  a  time  their  "  foot  had  well 
nigh  slipped  ; "  but  He  in  His  mercy  held  them  up.  And 
now,  even  in  this  life,  they  know  that  all  He  did  was  done 
well ;  that  it  was  good  for  them  to  stand  alone  with  Him 
upon  the  mountain  and  in  the  cloud;  and  that  not  their  own 
will,  but  His  was  done  in  them. 

This,  then,  is  the  work  which  He  has  been  doing  with 
each  one  of  you.  Little  as  you  may  know  it,  your  whole 
life,  from  baptism  to  this  day,  is  a  parable  of  which  this  is 
the  key.  Even  with  the  sinful,  and  the  enemies  of  His 
cross,  He  has  been  dealing  in  tenderness  and  long-suffering. 
He  has  been  striving  to  draw  them  to  His  cross,  while  they 
have  been  wrestling  against  Him.  Fearful  thought,  that  a 
man  should  be  in  open  warfare  against  the  will  and  work 
of  Christ,  baffling  by  a  stubborn  heart  the  great  m3^stery  of 
His  passion !  "  Woe  unto  him  that  striveth  with  his 
Maker:  let  the  potsherd  strive  with  the  potsherd  of  the 
earth  ;"*  but  woe  thrice  told  to  him  that  striveth  with  his 
Saviour :   "  He  that  falleth  on  this  stone  shall  be  broken  ; 

*  Isaiah  xlt.  9. 


XIX.]  CHRIST'S  PASSION.  225 

but   on    whomsoever   it    shall    fall,   it  will   grind    him   to 
powder."* 

All  of  you  has  He  been  drawing;  and  if  you  look  back, 
you  can  see  the  links  in  the  chain  by  which  He  has  drawn 
you  until  now.  A  word,  a  thought,  a  chance,  a  sickness,  a 
sorrow,  a  burden  of  sadness  in  the  day-time,  or  a  dream  of 
tlie  past  in  the  night-season,  alone,  or  in  the  throng  of  men, 
in  your  chamber,  or  at  the  altar,  something  pierced  deep 
into  your  soul,  and  there  abode ;  and  you  carried  it  about 
like  a  barbed  arrow,  which  no  hand  could  draw  but  the 
same  that  launched  it.  And  then  He  has  led  you,  little  by 
little,  with  gentle  steps,  hiding  the  full  length  of  the  way 
that  you  must  tread,  lest  you  should  start  aside  in  fear,  and 
faint  for  weariness.  And  as  it  has  been,  so  it  must  be : 
onward  you  must  go  :  He  will  not  leave  you  here  :  there  is 
yet  in  store  for  you  more  contrition,  more  devotion,  more 
delight  in  Him.  A  few  years  hence,  and  you  will  see  how 
true  these  words  are.  If  by  that  time  you  have  not  forsaken 
Him,  you  will  be  nearer  still,  walking  in  strange,  it  may 
be  solitary  paths,  in  ways  that  are  "  called  desert ; "  but 
knowing  Him,  as  now  you  know  Him  not,  with  a  fulness 
of  knowledge,  and  a  bowing  of  heart,  and  a  holy  self- 
renouncement,  and  a  joy  that  you  are  altogether  His.  What 
now  seems  too  much,  shall  then  seem  all  too  little  ;  what 
too  nigh,  not  nigh  enough  to  His  awful  cross.  How  our 
thoughts  change !  A  few  years  ago,  and  you  would  have 
thought  your  present  state  excessive  and  severe;  you  would 
have  shrunk  from  it  then,  as  at  this  time  you  shrink  from 
the  hereafter.  But  now  you  look  back,  and  know  that  all 
was  well.  In  all  your  past  life  you  would  not  have  one 
grief  the  less,  or  one  joy  the  more.  It  is  all  well;  though, 
when  it  happened,  3'^ou  knew  it  not.     *'  What  I  do,  thou 

•  St,  Matthew  xxi.  44. 
VOL.   I.-15. 


226  THE  POWER  OF  CHRIST'S  PASSION.        [Serm.  XIX. 

knowest  not  now;  but  thou  shalt  know  hereafter."  There- 
fore shun  all  things  which  may  hinder  your  approach  to 
Him  :  follow  His  drawings  with  a  free  and  willing  heart. 
Though  restless  and  perplexed  at  first,  yield  to  His  myste- 
rious will ;  even  as  Peter,  who  first  strove  with  Him,  and 
then  said,  "  Lord,  not  my  feet  only,  but  also  my  hands  and 
my  head."*  Wait  for  the  end.  Men  mar  their  whole 
destiny  in  life  by  prescribing  to  God's  providence.  They 
either  thwart  it  by  outrunning  it,  or  hinder  it  by  hanging 
back.  What  we  are  to  be.  He  has  determined,  and  in  due 
time  will  reveal  it.  Your  place,  your  crown,  your  ministry, 
in  His  unseen  kingdom,  are  all  marked  out  for  you.  He  is 
drawing  you  towards  your  everlasting  portion.  At  that 
day,  when  He  shall  have  brought  unto  Mount  Sion  the  last 
of  His  redeemed  flock,  and  every  lost  sheep  shall  "  pass 
under  the  hand  of  him  that  telleth  them  ;"  when  the  mys- 
tical number  shall  be  full;  and  all  the  saints  of  God,  from 
Abel  the  rigteous  to  the  last  that  shall  be  quick  on  earth  at 
His  coming,  shall  be  gathered  round  the  Lamb  that  was 
slain,  then  shall  we  know  what  He  is  now  doing  with  us 
under  a  veil  and  in  silence.  We  shall  no  more  follow  Him 
unseen ;  but  behold  Him  face  to  face. 

«  St.  John  xiii.  7  and  9, 


SERMON  XX. 


SUFFERING  THE  SCHOOL  OF  OBEDIENCE. 


Hebrews  v.  8. 

"Though  He  were  a  Son,  yet  learned   He  obedience  by  the  things 
which  He  suffered." 


Although  we  are  taught  that  the  godhead  and  manhood 
were  so  united  in  the  person  of  our  blessed  Lord  as  to  be 
absolutely  one,  there  yet  remains  unrevealed  a  wonderful 
mystery  respecting  the  conditions  of  His  human  nature  ;  as, 
for  instance,  where  He  said  of  His  second  coming,  "  Of  that 
day  and  that  hour  knoweth  no  man  ;  no,  not  the  angels 
which  are  in  heaven,  neither  the  Son,  but  the  Father."* 
How  did  He  not  know?  How  should  any  thing  be  hidden 
from  "  the  Son  of  Man,  which  is  in  heaven  ?  "f  All  that  we 
can  say  is,  that  in  these  words  He  declared  to  us  that  the 
mystery  of  His  incarnation  was  in  some  way  ordered  by 
the  laws  and  conditions  of  our  manhood.  We  have  another 
example  of  this  kind  in  the  text :  St.  Paul  here  tells  us  that 
Christ  Himself  "  learned  obedience  by  the  things  which 
He  suffered." 

»  St.  Mark  xiii.  32.  t  St.  John  iii.  13. 


228  SUFFERING  THE  SCHOOL  OF  OBEDIENCE.  [Serm. 

And,  first,  this  may  be  understood  of  the  passive  nature 
which,  by  taking  upon  Himself  our  humanity,  He  assumed 
into  His  divine  person.  As  God  He  was  impassible,  im- 
mortal, incapable  of  being  tempted  by  evil ;  infinite,  and 
therefore  unchangeable  :  neither  growth,  nor  weariness,  nor 
faintness,  nor  thirst,  nor  hunger,  could  reach  the  Eternal. 
He  was  above  the  conditions  of  a  creature  ;  but  by  the 
mystery  of  His  incarnation,  what  things  before  could  not 
reach  or  fasten  upon  His  divine  nature,  were  admitted  to 
His  manhood.  He,  therefore,  took  on  Him  our  flesh  and 
blood,  that  He  might  come  under  the  dominion  of  suffering 
and  mortality,  of  spiritual  warfare  and  bodily  infirmities. 
As  He  assumed  the  passive  conditions  of  humanity,  so  He 
partook  of  the  susceptibilities  of  its' several  ages.  And 
therefore  we  read  that  "  Jesus  increased  in  wisdom  and 
stature,  and  in  favor  with  God  and  man."*  And  these 
words  are  no  mere  economy  or  condescension  ;  as  when  we 
read  of  God's  repenting,  or  awaking,  or  plucking  His  right 
hand  out  of  His  bosom ;  but  deep  mysterious  realities,  as 
plainly  to  be  taken  and  understood  as  the  Word  being  made 
flesh,  and  weeping  at  the  grave  of  Lazarus,  and  being  nailed 
upon  the  cross.  Such  was  the  humiliation  of  the  Eternal 
Son.  He  was  made  man,  not  only  to  suffer,  but  to  learn  ; 
He  assume!  the  imperfections  of  His  creatures,  and  "  com- 
passed" Himself  "with  infirmity;"  that,  as  before  there 
was  nothing  in  Godhead  which  was  not  in  Him,  so  after- 
ward there  was  nothing  in  manhood,  sin  only  excepted, 
of  which  He  did  not  partake.  It  is  plain,  then,  that  He 
"  learned  obedience"  in  the  very  truth  of  our  nature,  even 
as  we  learn  it;  that  is,  by  measures  and  degrees,  by  disci- 
pline and  in  time. 

And   this   brings    us    to   one    more  truth.     There  are 

*  St  Luke  ii.  52. 


XX.]  SUFFERING  THE  SCHOOL  OF  OBEDIENCE.  229 

different  ways  both  of  knowing  and  of  learning.  A  large 
part  of  our  knowledge  is  either  intuitive  and  ideal,  residing 
in  the  pure  reason  ;  or  speculative,  that  is,  gathered  by 
deduction  and  mental  inference  :  and  this  is  one  kind  of 
knowledge,  and  one  way  of  learning.  Another  kind  is 
learned  by  what  we  call  life  ;  by  experience,  personal  trial, 
entanglement  with  events,  struggles  in  doing  and  suffering : 
and  what  we  learn  in  this  wa}^  we  know  with  a  depth  and 
familiarity  far  beyond  all  other  knowledge  ;  it  is  a  part  of 
our  living  energies  and  powers,  and  dwells  in  our  very 
being.  Not  only  is  its  stamp  imprinted  on  us,  but  it  so 
passes  into  us  as  to  blend  with  our  whole  inner  nature. 
We  are  what  we  have  done  and  suffered.  And  this  is  what 
we  commonly  call  "experience."  Now,  if  we  consider 
that  the  impassible  Word  took  on  Him  our  passible  nature, 
we  shall  see  in  what  sense  even  He  "  learned  obedience  by 
the  things  that  He  suffered."  As  there  is  a  difference  in 
kind  between  the  knowledge  we  possess  of  those  things 
which  we  have,  and  those  things  which  we  have  not, 
learned  b}^  experience ;  so  the  same  is  true  also  of  His 
perfect  manhood  ;  and  more  visibly  true  of  the  knowledge 
of  an  omniscient  impassible  Being  compared  with  the  expe- 
rience of  suffering  humanity.  It  is  a  mode  and  kind  of 
knowledge  which  could  not  otherwise  consist  with  the 
perfections  of  the  Godhead. 

He  made  trial,  then,  in  a  passible  nature,  of  human 
suffering.  He  learned,  by  actual  partaking  of  sorrow, 
what  is  the  power  of  sin  over  mankind.  Into  His  pure 
manhood  the  guilt  of  sin  could  no  more  enter  than  into  His 
eternal  Godhead  :  but  the  sinless  infirmities  of  our  fallen 
state,  and  its  large  capacities  of  agony.  He  took  ,  and, 
girded  about  with  them,  He  offered  Himself  to  the  strife  of 
evil.     He  obeyed,  in  that  He  stood  in  the  place  of  a  sufferer. 


230  SUFFERING  THE  SCHOOL  OF  OBEDIENCE.  [Serm. 

And  in  it  He  learned  in  very  deed,  by  feeling  and  tasting, 
the  nakedness  and  the  bitterness  of  the  fall  of  man.  What 
was  impossible  to  the  Godhead,  He  as  man  endured  in  the 
wilderness,  suffering  the  suggestions  and  solicitations  of  the 
Evil  One ;  so  likewise  in  the  garden.  He  passed  through  an 
agony  which  cannot  be  uttered  ;  there  lay  on  Him  a  crushing 
burden  of  fleshly  and  spiritual  woes,  the  like  of  which  never 
man  yet  bare.  In  the  betrayal,  and  in  the  judgment  before 
Annas,  and  Caiaphas,  and  Herod,  and  Pilate,  and  by  the 
way-side,  and  in  the  ascent  of  Calvary,  and  upon  the  cross, 
He  learned  a  mystery  of  suffering,  of  pangs  and  agony,  such 
as  no  son  of  man  had  ever  known.  Into  all  this  the  Eternal 
Word  entered,  through  His  passive  nature  as  man.  Strange 
words,  yet  most  true,  though  so  awful  to  the  ear  as  almost 
to  make  us  fear  to  speak  them.  He  that  suffered  the  rack 
of  the  spiritual  cross,  and  the  unutterable  torments  of  bodily 
pain,  was  God.  He  to  whom  all  mysteries  lie  open  as  the 
light  of  noon,  learned,  by  the  things  which  He  suffered, 
what  as  God  He  could  never  taste.  Through  that  life, 
short  in  days,  but  in  sorrows  above  all  measure  long, 
through  humiliation,  and  peril,  and  contempt,  and  cold,  and 
fasting,  and  weariness,  and  thirst,  and  hunger,  and  faint- 
ness,  and  ingratitude,  and  contradiction  of  sinners,  and 
treachery,  and  false  witness,  and  unjust  condemnation,  and 
buffeting,  and  spitting,  and  mockery,  and  the  smiting  of  the 
reed,  and  the  crown  of  thorns,  and  the  vinegar  and  gall,  and 
the  rending  cross,  and  the  hiding  of  His  Father's  face, — He, 
the  Eternal,  the  Word  of  God,  the  Everlasting  Son  of  the 
Father,  learned  the  mystery  of  suffering.  What,  then,  was 
it  that  He  learned  ?  St.  Paul  says,  obedience :  that  is,  by 
trial,  and  discipline,  and  self-denial.  He  took  the  will  of  His 
Father  for  His  own.  All  the  assaults  of  the  tempter,  whether 
by  allurement  or  by  opposition,  could  not  move  Him  from 


XX.]  SUFFERING  THE  SCHOOL  OF  OBEDIENCE.  231 

His  loyalty ;  all  the  long  lingering  daily  toil,  and  all  the 
piercing  agonies  of  His  passion,  could  not  withdraw  so 
much  as  a  thought  of  His  heart  from  His  Father's  will. 
Even  though  He,  the  great  and  true  Melchisedec,  "  in  the 
days  of  His  flesh,"  made  oblation*  of  "prayers  and  suppli- 
cations, with  strong  crying  and  tears,  unto  Him  that  was 
able  to  save  Him  from  death,  and  was  heard  in  that  He 
feared  ;"t  yet  the  prayer  of  His  heart  was,  '*  not  My  will, 
but  Thine  be  done ;"  and  He  was  heard,  yet  not  so  that 
the  cup  should  pass,  but  that  His  will  should  yield  to  His 
Father's,  and  become  one  with  it.  This,  then,  He  learned 
even  as  we  :  as  He  hungered  like  us,  and  wept  like  us,  so, 
by  trial  and  discipline,  He  learned  to  bear  the  sufferings  of 
our  nature.  All  through  His  humiliation.  He  was  realising, 
by  actual  energy  and  patience,  the  pledge  He  gave  of  old  : 
"  Lo,  I  come  to  do  Thy  will,  O  God." 

And  in  thus  learning  obedience.  He  learned  also  to 
enter  by  sympathy  into  the  sorrows  of  those  that  suffer : 
"  We  have  not  an  high  priest  which  cannot  be  touched 
with  the  feeling  of  our  infirmities ;  but  was  in  all  points 
tempted  like  as  we  are,  yet  without  sin."J  For  in  that 
"  He  Himself  hath  suffered  being  tempted.  He  is  able  to 
succor  them  that  are  tempted."'^  All  divine  as  He  was 
before,  and  therefore  infinite  in  love  and  pity.  He  has  yet 
condescended  further  to  our  fallen  state,  and  interposed, 
between  His  eternal  mercies  and  our  imperfect  being,  the 
tender  sympathy  of  His  own  crucified  humanity;  as  if  it 
were  not  enough  that  He  should  pity  us  "like  as  a  father 
pitieth  his  children,"  but  that  He  must  feel  with  us  in  our 
sorrows  even  as  one  of  ourselves.  And  for  this  cause  He 
suffered,  that  He  might  learn  to  sympathise  with  those  that 

*  TTfoa-iviyKoit.  t  Heb.  v.  7. 

t  Hebrews  iv.  15.  $  Hebrews  ii.  18. 


232  SUFFERING  THE  SCHOOL  OF  ODEDIENCE.  [Sekm. 

suffer  through  obedience.  He  has  made  full  trial  of  all ; 
there  is  no  posture  of  the  afflicted  soul  with  which  He  is 
not  familiar;  no  measure  of  bodily  or  spiritual  sorrow 
which,  "  in  the  days  of  His  flesh,"  He  endured  not  to  the 
uttermost ;  and  what  He  endured  in  the  weakness  of 
humanit}',  passed  into  the  depths  of  His  divine  compassion. 

Though  He  was  God,  yet  was  there  something  still  to 
be  learned  for  our  sakes :  though  He  was  a  Son,  yet  were 
there  deeper  mysteries  of  obedience  which  He  must  needs 
learn  through  suffering.  All  holy  even  as  man,  altogether 
obedient  to  His  Father's  will,  yet,  by  some  law  which 
governs  the  realities  of  the  spiritual  world,  there  were  deep 
things  lying  hid  in  the  nature  of  sorrow  and  pain,  and  in 
the  energy  and  patience  of  the  will,  which  were  yet  to  be 
learned  by  warfare  and  by  agony;  and  for  this  end  He  was 
made  flesh,  and  bowed  Himself  to  the  cross  of  our  humilia- 
tion ;  and  was  made  not  only  like  us,  but  one  with  us  :  so 
that  it  was  our  mingled  and  sensitive  beino;  which  in  Him 
suffered,  and  was  taught  and  disciplined  in  the  relation  of 
a  creature  to  his  God,  and  of  a  sinner  to  his  righteous 
Judge. 

Now  there  is  one  broad  and  obvious  truth  flowing  from 
what  has  been  said:  namely,  that  suffering  is  the  school  or 
discipline  of  obedience.  In  His  wisdom  and  power,  God 
has  laid  even  upon  sorrow  the  destiny  of  fulfilling  His 
purposes  of  mercy.  In  the  beginning,  sorrow  was  the 
wages  of  sin,  penal  and  working  death  ;  by  the  law  of 
Christ's  redemption  it  is  become  a  discipline  of  cleansing 
and  perfection.  God  permits  it  still  to  abide  in  His  king- 
dom, but  He  has  reduced  it  to  subjection.  It  is  now 
changed  to  be  a  minister,  not  more  of  His  severity  than  of 
His  mercy.  To  the  impenitent,  and  such  as  will  not  obey 
the  truth,  it  is  still,  as  ever,  a  dark  and  crushing  penalty: 


XX.]  SUFFERING  THE  SCHOOL  OF  OBEDIENCE.  233 

to  the  contrite  and  obedient  it  is  as  the  refiner's  fire,  keen 
and  searching,  purging  out  the  soils  and  perfecting  the 
renewal  of  our  spiritual  nature.  It  is  the  discipline  of 
saints,  and  the  safest,  though  the  austerest  school  of  sanctity  ; 
and  that  because  suffering,  or,  as  we  are  wont  to  say,  trial, 
turns  our  knowledge  into  reality.  God  has  many  ways  of 
teaching  us ;  and  from  our  childhood  we  are  ever  learning, 
from  parents,  and  teachers,  and  sermons,  and  books ;  from 
the  holy  Scriptures  and  the  worship  of  the  Church,  and 
from  the  changes  and  chances  of  the  world :  all  these  form 
the  habit  of  obedience  in  faithful  minds.  But  a  season  of 
suffering  is  beyond  them  all.  When  pain  searches  into  the 
body  or  the  spirit,  we  feel  as  if  we  had  awoke  up  to  know 
that  we  had  learned  nothing  really  until  now.  There  is 
laid  upon  us  a  mighty  hand,  from  whose  shadow  we  cannot 
flee.  All  general  truths  teem  with  a  particular  meaning, 
and  speak  to  us  with  a  piercing  emphasis.  God  is  come 
nigh  to  us,  and  is  dealing  with  us  at  last,  one  by  one.  It 
is  our  turn  now ;  and  we  feel  as  if  we  saw  the  tokens  of 
His  presence  shaping  themselves  for  a  moment  to  our  sight, 
and  then  withdrawing  themselves  again  ;  coming  and  going 
in  an  awful  way,  as  if  to  gaze  upon  us,  and  search  out  our 
very  thoughts  :  we  feel  as  if  the  prophet's  words  were  in 
some  way  true  of  ourselves :  "In  the  year  that  king  Uzziah 
died,  I  saw  the  Lord  sitting  upon  a  throne  high  and  lifted 
up,  and  His  train  filled  the  temple."*  Something  is  before 
the  eye  of  the  soul;  what  it  is  as  yet  we  cannot  clearly  see; 
but  we  are  conscious  that  we  are  brought  in  contact  with 
the  order  of  the  eternal  world ;  and  that  God  has  turned 
His  hand  upon  us,  to  make  us  meet  for  His  kingdom ;  that 
henceforward  it  is  most  likely  that  our  trials  will  follow 
quickly  one  upon  another ;  and  that  there  is  no  other  rest 

*  Isaiah  vi.  1. 


234  SUFFERING  THE  SCHOOL  OF  OBEDIENCE.  [Serm. 

in  Store  for  us  until  we  put  off  this  body,  and  pass  into  the 
realities  of  the  world  unseen.     Such  are  the  effects  wrought 
by  sorrows,  sicknesses,  bodily  pains,  anxieties,  and  the  like. 
They  seem  to  take  away  the  imaginative  and  visionary  parts 
of  our  life,  and  to  turn  it  into  a  severe  and  impressive  reality: 
they  make  all  our  past  life  appear  as  a  mere  day-dream,  as 
if  we  had  never  been  in  earnest  till  now.     We  have  heard 
of  submission,  and  resignation,  and  giving  up  of  our  own 
will :  but  it  has  been  as  yet  little  more  than  hearsay.     At 
last  we  find  these  things  required  at  our  hands.     We  must 
give  more  than  words  now  :  God  is  exacting  realities.    And 
then  there  comes  down  upon  the  mind,  as  it  were,  a  full 
stream  of  words  and  sayings,  which  we  have  heard  or  read 
in  time  past,  and  only  half  understood,  and  well  nigh  for- 
gotten.    They  have  lain  pent  up  in  the   hidden   recesses 
of  our  memory,  not  altogether  forgotten,   and  yet  hardly 
remembered  :  like  dormant  truths,  which  lie  in  the  reason 
of  children,   ready  to   start   into   vivid    life    when   wisely 
touched,  and  yet  sometimes  never  elicited,  and  therefore 
never  known  ;  so  the  things  which  we  understand  not  when 
we  first  hear  or  read,  rise  up  as  lights  "  in  the  day  of  visi- 
tation ;"    half-truths    unfold   their   full    outline  ;    scattered 
truths  draw  together  into  an  expressive  context ;  and  we 
seem  to  hear  a  voice  saying,  "Why  would  you  not  under- 
stand this  before?     Why  make  all  this  necessary?     It  is 
not  spoken  out  more  plainly  now  than  it  was  years  ago : 
but  you  would  not  understand."     Equally  true  this  is,  also, 
of  all  bright  and  blessed  truths  :    they  also  are  quickened 
with  a  living  energy.     The  promises  of  heaven,  and  the 
times  of  refreshing,  and  the  rest  of  the  saints,  and  the  love 
of  God,  and  the  presence  of  Christ,  which  we  have  so  long 
thought  of,  and  talked  about,  and  felt  after,  and  3'et  never 
seemed    to    grasp, — all    these   likewise    become    realities. 


XX.]  SUFFERING  THE  SCHOOL  OF  OBEDIENCE.  235 

They  seem  to  gather  round  us,  and  shed  sensible  influences 
of  peace  upon  our  suffering  hearts  :  and  this  is  what  we 
mean  when  we  say,  "I  have  long  Icnown  these  things  to  be 
true,  but  now  I  fed  them  to  be  true."  As  Job,  after  his 
trial,  said,  "  I  have  heard  of  Thee  by  the  hearing  of  the  ear, 
but  now  mine  eye  seeth  Thee."  He  had  learned  obedience 
through  suffering. 

And,  in  the  next  place,  sufl!erings  so  put  our  faith  on  trial 
as  to  strengthen  and  confirm  it.  They  develop  what  was 
lying  hid  in  us,  unknown  even  to  ourselves.  And  therefore 
we  often  see  persons,  who  have  shown  no  very  great  tokens 
of  high  devotion,  come  out,  under  the  pressure  of  trials,  into 
a  most  elevated  bearing.  This  is  especially  true  of  sickness 
and  affliction.  Not  only  are  persons  of  a  holy  life  made  to 
shine  with  a  more  radiant  brightness,  but  common  Chris- 
tians, of  no  note  or  visibleness,  are  changed  to  a  saintly 
character.  They  wrestle  with  their  trial,  as  the  patriarch 
with  his  unknown  companion,  and  will  not  let  it  go  without 
a  blessing ;  and  thereby  the  gifts  which  lie  enwrapped  in  a 
regenerate  nature  are  unfolded  into  life  and  energy.  Per- 
haps almost  every  one  is  able,  in  looking  back  on  his  life 
past,  to  fix  on  the  seasons  which  gave  his  character  some 
new  and  determinate  cast.  He  can  look  back,  perhaps, 
and  say,  "  Until  such  a  time  I  lived  without  real  thoughts 
of  God  ;  and  then  such  a  sickness  gave  my  mind  a  startling 
check ;  and  after  that  I  lived  inconsistently,  between  right 
conviction  and  unamended  habits,  until  such  an  anxiety 
spurred  me  to  take  a  decided  line ;  but  even  then  I  had 
only  selfish  thoughts  for  my  own  salvation,  without  care  for 
others,  until  another  trial  came ;  and  then,  too,  I  remember 
that,  for  a  long  time,  I  had  only  the  active  and  exciting  parts 
of  obedience  ;  I  had  none  of  the  passive  features  of  faith,  no 
meekness  nor  patience  under  wrong  or  shghts,  nor  willing- 


236  SUFFERING  THE  SCHOOL  OF  OBEDIENCE.  [Serm. 

ness  to  be  overlooked  and  forgotten,  and  to  die  to  the  world  ; 
until  a  great  sorrow  came,  and  changed  the  whole  current 
of  my  will.  There  have  been  stages  and  resting-places  in 
my  course ;  and  I  have  moved  at  an  uneven  pace,  some- 
times faster  and  sometimes  slower,  according,  as  I  see  now, 
to  the  trials  which  came  upon  me ;  and  all  the  deeper  and 
more  decided  changes  of  my  character  are  dated  from  the 
heavier  and  sharper  visitations  of  suffering.  How  little  did 
I  once  know  of  what  I  see  now  with  a  clear  insight !  What 
I  used  hardly  to  reason  out,  is  now  an  intuition.  Had  I 
been  left  to  myself,  I  should  have  known  none  of  these 
things.  They  would  have  continued  to  bo  as  shadowy  and 
unreal  as  they  were  in  childhood,  and  all  my  character 
would  have  been  straitened  and  stunted.  I  have  been 
almost  passive,  while  He  has  been  working  out  His  will  in 
me :  He  has  chosen,  and  gone  before  me,  and  guided  me 
by  the  rod  of  His  chastisement.  Little  as  I  know  even 
now,  yet  all  I  know  I  have  been  taught  by  trials  :  I  have 
learned  obedience  by  the  things  which  I  have  suffered." 
Now,  I  say,  perhaps  every  man  will  be  able  to  trace  out  a 
coincidence  between  these  words  and  some  part  at  least  of 
his  past  life :  and  what  does  this  show,  but  the  fact  that 
God  has  been  teaching  him  through  the  discipline  of  trials; 
making  him  to  realise  his  knowledge,  and  unfolding  his 
character  into  form  and  energy  ? 

Once  more  :  nothing  so  likens  us  to  the  example  of 
Christ  as  suffering.  It  seems  to  be  an  inevitable  law, 
arising  out  of  the  fall  of  the  old,  and  the  perfecting  of  a 
new  creation — first,  that  the  second  Adam  should  be  a 
"  Man  of  sorrows  ;"  and  next,  that  we  should  be  conformed 
to  Him  in  this  aspect  of  His  perfection  :  "  It  became  Him 
for  whom  are  all  things,  and  by  whom  are  all  things,  in 
bringing  many  sons  unto  glory,  to  make  the  Captain  of  their 


XX.]  SUFFERING  THE  SCHOOL  OF  OBEDIENCE.  237 

salvation  perfect  through  sufferings."*  And  it  is  not  more 
in  relation  to  sanctity  than  to  sufferings,  that  St.  Paul  says 
that  we  were  predestinated  "to  be  conformed  to  the  image 
of  His  Son,  that  He  might  be  the  firstborn  among  many 
brethren."!  ^"d  therefore,  in  another  place,  he  asks, 
"What  son  is  he  whom  the  father  chasteneth  not?"  and 
argues  that  to  be  free  from  chastisement  is  an  awful  ex- 
emption, rather  to  be  feared  than  coveted,  as  clouding  the 
bright  though  keen  tokens  of  sonship,  which  are  seen  in 
those  that  suffer.  There  is  a  breadth  and  universality  in 
this  reasoning,  which  seems  to  force  upon  us  the  conviction, 
that  no  true  member  of  His  body  who  was  made  perfect 
through  sufferings,  shall  pass  out  of  life  without  at  some 
time  drinking  of  the  cup  that  He  drank  of,  and  being  bap- 
tised with  the  baptism  that  He  was  baptised  with.  And, 
indeed,  if  we  look  into  the  lives  of  His  saints,  we  shall  see 
that  this  is  simpl}"^  true.  All  that  suffer  are  not  therefore 
saints ;  alas !  far  from  it,  for  many  suffer  without  the  fruits 
of  sanctity ;  but  all  saints  at  some  time,  and  in  some  way 
and  measure,  have  entered  into  the  mystery  of  suffering. 
And  this  throws  light  on  a  very  perplexing  thought  in  which 
we  sometimes  entangle  ourselves  :  I  mean,  on  the  wonderful 
fact  that  oftentimes  the  same  persons  are  as  visibly  marked 
by  sorrows  as  by  sanctity.  We  often  see  the  holiest  of 
Christ's  servants  afflicted  with  a  depth  and  multiplication 
of  sufferings  beyond  other  men.  They  seem  never  to  pass 
out  of  the  shadow  of  affliction  ;  no  sooner  is  one  gone  off 
than  another  has  come  up  ;  "  the  clouds  return  after  the 
rain;"  sorrow  gathers  into  sorrow;  sickness  gives  way 
before  sickness ;  fears  are  thrust  out  by  fears ;  anxieties 
are  only  lost  in  anxieties  ;  they  seem  to  be  a  mark  for  all 
the  storms   and   arrows  of  adversity  ;    the  world  esteems 

*  Heb.  ii.  10.  t  Rom.  viii.  29. 


9% 


238  SUFFERING  THE  SCHOOL  OF  OBEDIENCE.  [Serm. 

ihem  to  be  "stricken,  smitten  of  God,  and  afflicted  ;"  even 
religious  people  are  perplexed  at  their  trials.  When  we 
see  eminently  holy  persons  suddenly  bereaved,  or  suffering 
sharp  bodily  anguish,  and  their  trials  long  drawn  out,  or 
multiplied  by  succession,  we  often  say,  How  strange  and 
dark  is  this  dispensation  !  who  would  have  thought  that 
one  so  pure,  so  patient,  and  resigned,  should  have  been  so 
visited  and  overwhelmed  by  strokes  ?  If  they  had  been 
slack,  or  lukewarm,  or  backward,  or  self-willed,  or  entan- 
gled in  worldly  affections,  we  could  better  read  the  meaning 
of  this  mysterious  trial ;  but  who  more  earnest  and  useful 
in  all  good  works ;  who  so  advanced  in  holiness,  so  near  to 
the  kingdom  of  heaven,  as  they? — And  yet  all  this  shows 
how  shallow  and  blind  our  faith  is ;  for  we  know  little  even 
of  those  we  know  best ;  we  readily  overrate  their  character  ; 
at  all  events,  they  are  far  otherwise  in  the  esteem  of  God 
than  in  our  judgment:  our  thoughts  are  not  His  thoughts; 
we  set  up  a  poor,  dim,  depressed  standard  of  perfection  ; 
and  we  should  miserably  defraud  even  those  we  love  most, 
if  it  were  in  our  power  to  mete  out  their  trials  by  our  mea- 
sures :  we  little  know  what  God  is  doing,  and  how  can  we 
know  the  way?  and  we  often  think  that  the  sorrows  of  the 
saints  are  sent  for  their  punishment,  when  they  are  sent  for 
their  perfection.  Either  way  we  are  greatly  ignorant. 
They  may  need  far  more  of  purification  than  we  think  ; 
they  may  be  suffering  for  an  end  higher  than  purification ; 
for  some  end  which  includes  purification,  and  unknown 
mysteries  besides.  We  forget  that  Christ  suffered,  and 
why  ;  and  how  He  learned  obedience,  and  what  that  obe- 
dience was.  He  was  all-pure;  suffering  could  find  no  more 
to  cleanse  than  sin  could  find  to  fasten  upon.  The  prince 
of  this  world  "had  nothing"  in  Him;  yet  whose  sorrow 
was  like  unto  His  sorrow,  "  wherewith  the  Lord  afflicted  " 


XX.]  SUFFERING  THE  SCHOOL  OF  OBEDIENCE.  239 

Him  "  in  the  day  of  His  fierce  anger?"  and  that,  great  as 
the  mystery  must  ever  be,  not  only  and  altogether  as  a 
vicarious  suffering,  but  that  in  the  truth  of  our  manhood  He 
might  learn  "obedience  by  the  things  that  He  suffered." 
He  was  made  "perfect"  by  sufferings;  and  that  "perfec- 
tion," whatsoever  it  be,  has  an  ineffable  depth  of  meaning. 
It  was  not  only  a  sacerdotal  perfection  by  consecration  to 
the  priesthood  of  Melchisedec,  but  something  of  which  that 
was  the  formal  expression  and  manifestation  ;  a  great  spirit- 
ual reality,  a  perfection  of  holiness,  knowledge,  obedience, 
sympathy,  and  will;  this  was  the  perfection  in  truth  and 
spirit  of  the  "  one  Mediator  between  God  and  men,  the  man 
Christ  Jesus."  And  of  this  perfection,  after  the  measures 
of  a  creature,  and  the  proportions  of  our  mere  manhood,  are 
the  saints  made  to  partake  ;  they  are  purified,  that  they  may 
be  made  perfect.  And  therefore  the  sorrows  of  the  holiest 
minds  are  the  nearest  approaches  to  the  mind  of  Christ,  and 
are  full  of  a  meaning  which  is  dark  to  lis  only  from  its  ex- 
ceeding brightness.  Our  weak  failh,  which  can  read  the 
earthlier  teaching  of  affliction,  goes  blind  when  it  follows 
the  mystery  of  sorrow  upward  to  the  perfection  of  Christ. 
We  know  not  what  things  they  learn, — things  which  it  is 
not  lawful  for  a  man  to  utter;  and  therefore  their  words 
are  often  to  our  ears  incoherent,  and  we  are  ready  to  say, 
"What  is  this  that  he  saith  ?  ...  we  cannot  tell  what  he 
saith."  It  may  be,  that  suffering  plants  the  mind  of  man 
at  a  point  of  sight  in  the  spiritual  world,  from  which  things 
altogether  hidden  from  us  who  stand  by  and  see  his  afflic- 
tions, and  until  then  even  from  himself,  become  visible  ; 
such,  for  instance,  as  the  nature  of  evil,  of  temptation,  of 
disobedience,  of  the  fall  of  man,  of  our  birth-sin,  of  death, 
of  the  striving  of  the  Holy  Ghost  with  the  unholy  in  the 
mystical  body  of  Christ,  of  responsibility,  and  of  a  crucified 


% 


240  SUFFERING  THE  SCHOOL  OF  OBEDIENCE.  [Serm. 

will :  such  also,  as  the  counterpart  of  these  realities,  the 
nature  of  regeneration,    and   of  Christ's    presence   in   the 
Church  and  holy  sacraments  and  in  the  heart  of  the  faithful, 
and  the  beauty  of  holiness,  the  resurrection  of  the  body,  the 
bliss  of  heaven,  and  the  like.     Now  it  must  be  remembered, 
that  all  these  things  we  k?iow  from  childhood  ;  but  suffering 
may  be  the  necessary  condition  to  our  feel'mg  them.     If  we 
would  learn  these  things,  it  may  be,  we  have  need  to  be 
made  like  to  our  Lord,  not  only  in  His  purity,  but  in  His 
passion  ;  for  they  are  learned  not  so  much  by  being  pre- 
sented to  our  minds,  as  by  the  posture  of  the  will,  and  the 
attitude  of  the  spiritual  being,  wrought  through  the  discipline 
of  suffering.     We  must  be  changed,  before  even  what  we 
see  will  be  seen,  or  what  we  know  will  be  known,  aright. 
And,  it  may  be,  that  anguish  of  soul,  or  pain  of  body,  is 
that  which  alone  can  transfigure  our  inward  being.     And 
this  throws  light  upon  the  whole  subject  of  fasting,  and 
self-affliction,  and  of  the  ascetic  life,  which  are  but  lesser 
forms  of  the  discipline  of  sorrow :  but  of  this  we  cannot 
now  speak.     I  will  only  add,  that  if  we  ponder  on   the 
incomprehensible  nature  of  pain,  mental  and  bodily;  of  its 
invisibleness,  its   vividness,   its   exceeding  sharpness   and 
penetrating  omnipresence  in  our  whole  being,  of  its  inscru- 
table origin,  and  the  indissoluble  link  which  binds  it  to  sin ; 
and,  lastly,  of  its  mysterious  relation  to  the  passion  and 
perfection  of  our  Lord, — we  shall  see  reason  to  believe  that 
a  power  so  near  and  awful  has  many  energies,  and  fulfils 
many  designs  in  God's  kingdom  secret  from  us. 

And  therefore,  when  we  look  at  the  sufferings  of  pure 
and  holy  minds,  let  us  rather  stand  in  awe,  as  being  called 
to  behold,  as  it  were,  a  shadow  of  our  Redeemer's  sorrows. 
The  holier  they  are  that  suffer,  the  higher  is  the  end  for 
which  they  are   aflSicted.     It   may  be,  they  are   learning 


XX.]  SUFFERING  THE  SCHOOL  OF  OBEDIENCE.  241 

inscrutable  things  of  the  same  order  with  those  which  the 
apostle  saw  in  ecstacy.  Even  with  bleeding  hearts  and 
deep-drawn  prayers  for  their  consolation,  let  us  try  to 
believe  that  God  is  endowing  them  with  surpassing  tokens 
of  love,  and  with  pledges  of  exceeding  glory. 

And  for  ourselves,  let  us  be  sure,  when  we  suffer,  that 
for  chastisement  and  for  purification  we  need  more  a 
thousand-fold  than  all  He  lays  upon  us.  The  heaviest  and 
the  sharpest  of  our  sorrows  is  only  just  enough  to  heal  us  : 
"  He  doth  not  ivillingly  afflict."  If  any  thing  short  of  our 
present  trial  would  have  wrought  His  purpose  of  love  to  us, 
He  would  have  sent  the  lighter,  and  kept  back  the  heavier; 
He  would  have  drawn  over  our  hearts  a  smooth  rod  of 
warning,  and  not  a  sharp  edge  of  correction.  But  nothing 
short  of  what  we  have  v/ould  do;  any  thing  less,  perhaps 
would  have  been  a  shadow  of  eternal  misery,  woe  without 
repentance.  Let  us  remember,  too,  that  sufferings  do  not 
sanctify  :  they  are  only  the  seasons  of  sanctification ;  their 
end  will  be  for  good  or  ill,  as  we  bear  and  as  we  use  them ; 
they  are  no  more  than  times  of  invitation  to  diligent  toil, 
like  the  softness  of  the  earth  after  a  keen  and  penetrating 
shower.  They  hold  in  check,  for  a  time,  our  spiritual  faults, 
and  prepare  our  hearts  to  receive  and  to  retain  deeper  and 
sharper  impressions  of  the  likeness  of  our  Lord.  Let  us 
count  them  precious,  blessed  seasons,  thougli  dim  and  over- 
cast ;  seasons  of  promise  and  of  springing  freshness ;  tokens 
of  His  nearness,  and  purpose  to  cleanse  us  for  His  own. 
*'  Blessed  are  ye  that  weep  now."  He  that  is  greatly  tried, 
if  he  be  learning  obedience,  is  not  far  from  the  kingdom  of 
God.  Our  heavenly  Father  is  perfecting  the  work  He 
began  in  holy  baptism;  laying  in  the  last  touches  with  His 
wise  and  gentle  hand.     He  that  perfected  His  own   Son 

VOL.  I.-16. 


242  SUFFERING  THE  SCHOOL  OF  OBEmENCE.    [Sekm.  XX, 

through  sufferings,  has  brought  many  sons  to  glory  by  the 
same  rough  road,  even  by  the  "  way  that  is  desert."  He 
is  now  bringing  you  home  to  Himself.  Do  not  shrink 
because  the  path  is  broken  and  solitary;  for  the  way  is 
short,  and  the  end  is  blessed.- 


SERMON  XXI. 


THE  SLEEP  OF  THE  FAITHFUL  DEPARTED. 


1  Thessalonians  iv.  13,  14. 
"  I  would  not  have  you  to  be  ignorant,  brethren,  concerning   them, 
which  are  asleep,  that  ye  sorrow  not  even  as  others  which  have  no 
hope.     For  if  we  believe  that  Jesus  died  and  rose  again,  even  so 
them  also  which  sleep  in  Jesus  will  God  bring  with  Him." 

One  great  miracle  in  the  new  creation  of  God  is  this,  that 
death  is  changed  to  sleep ;  and  therefore  in  the  writings  of 
the  New  Testament  we  do  not  read  of  the  "  death"  of  the 
saints.  "  Our  friend  Lazarus  sleepeth;  but  I  go  that  1  may 
awake  him  out  of  sleep."*  The  "  bodies  of  saints  which 
slept  arose."t  "  We  shall  not  all  sleep,  but  we  shall  all  be 
changed."!  "  David,  after  he  had  served  his  own  genera- 
tion by  the  will  of  God,  fell  on  sleep. "§  Even  in  the  pelting 
of  the  bloody  storm,  the  holy  Stephen  "  fell  asleep."||  And 
therefore  St.  Paul  in  the  text  speaks  of  the  saints  unseen  as 
of  those  that  "  sleep  in  Jesus;"  and  Christians  were  wont 
to  call  their  burial-grounds  cemeteries,  or  sleeping-places, 

*  St.  John  xi.  11.  t  St.  Matt,  xxvii.  52.  t  1  Cor.  xv.  51. 

$  Acts  xiii.  36.  11  Acts  vii.  60. 


244  THE  SLEEP  OF  THE  [Serm. 

where  they  laid  up  their  beloved  ones  to  sleep  on  and  take 
their  rest.  Let  us,  therefore,  see  why  we  should  thus 
speak  of  those  whom  we  call  the  dead. 

First,  it  is  because  we  know  that  they  shall  awake  up 
again.  What  sleep  is  to  waking,  death  is  to  the  resurrec- 
tion. It  is  only  a  prelude,  a  transitory  state,  ushering  in  a 
mightier  power  of  life;  therefore  death  is  called  sleep,  to 
show  that  it  has  a  fixed  end  coming.  Much  as  the  heathen 
felt  after  this,  and  mused,  and  boded,  yet,  after  all,  death 
and  the  world  of  the  dead  was  to  them  a  dreary  night. 
They  saw  men  going  down  into  the  dust,  but  they  saw 
none  come  back  again :  they  had  heard  no  whispers  of  the 
resurrection  of  the  body.  If  the  disembodied  spirit  should 
live  on,  that  was  all  they  could  attain  unto;  but  even  this 
was  clouded  and  dim.  And  their  poets  were  wont  to 
bewail  the  fleetingness  of  life,  and  the  unknown  condition 
of  the  dead.  They  were  wont  to  say :  "  Alas,  alas,  the 
mallows  and  the  fresh  herbs  of  the  field,  when  they  die, 
return  again  to  life,  and  spring  another  year;  but  we,  the 
great,  the  mighty,  the  wise,  when  once  we  die,  and  are 
laid  in  the  hollow  earth,  we  sleep  a  long,  an  endless,  and 
unbroken  sleep !  "  Even  the  Jews  but  dimly  saw  the 
coming  shadows  of  the  resurrection.  Death  was  too  high, 
too  mighty,  and  too  absolute ;  they  saw  and  felt  his  do- 
minion. Of  his  overthrow  they  had  both  promise  and 
prophecy ;  but  as  yet  he  seemed  too  tyrannously  strong  to 
pass  away  into  a  transitory  sleep.  It  was  for  the  Gospel  to 
reveal  this  mystery  by  the  miracle  of  Christ's  resurrection. 
It  was  revealed  in  act;  and  now  death  is  destroyed.  It  is 
a  kindly  soothing  rest  to  the  wearied  and  world-worn  spirit; 
and  there  is  a  fixed  end  to  its  duration.  There  is  a  waking 
nigh  at  hand ;  so  that  the  grave  is  little  more  than  the 
longest  night's  sleep  in  the  life  of  an  undying  soul. 


XXL]  FAITHFUL  DEPARTED.  2U 

Again ;  death  is  changed  to  sleep,  because  they  whom 
men  call  dead  do  really  live  unto  God.  They  were  dead 
while  they  lived  this  dying  life  on  earth,  and  dead  when 
they  were  in  the  last  avenues  of  death.  But  after  they  had 
once  died,  death  had  no  more  dominion  :  they  escaped  as  a 
"  bird  out  of  the  snare  of  the  fowler;  the  snare"  was 
'*  broken,"  and  they  were  delivered.  It  may  sound  strange 
to  unbelieving  ears  to  say,  that  we  are  dead  while  we  live, 
and  alive  when  we  die.  But  so  it  is.  Life  does  not  hang 
on  matter,  nor  on  the  organization  of  matter.  It  is  not  as 
the  harmony  which  rings  out  of  a  cunning  instrument;  but 
it  is  a  breath,  a  spirit,  a  ray  of  the  eternal  being,  pure, 
immaterial,  above  all  grosser  compounds,  simple  and  in- 
dissoluble. In  the  body  it  is  allayed  and  tempered  with 
weakness,  shrouded  about  with  obstructions;  its  faculties 
pent  up  by  a  bounded  organization,  and  its  energies  re- 
pressed by  the  "  body  of  this  death."  It  is  life  subjected 
to  the  conditions  of  mortality.  But,  once  dead,  once  dis- 
solved, and  the  unclothed  spirit  is  beyond  the  affections  of 
decay.  There  is  no  weakness,  nor  weariness,  nor  wasting 
away,  nor  wandering  of  the  burdened  spirit;  it  is  disen- 
thralled, and  lives  its  own  life,  unmingled  and  buoyant. 
When  the  coil  of  this  body  is  loosed,  death  has  done  all, 
and  his  power  is  spent :  thenceforth  and  for  ever  the  sleep- 
ing soul  lives  mightily  unto  God. 

And,  once  more ;  those  whom  the  world  calls  dead  are 
sleeping,  because  they  are  taking  their  rest.  "  I  heard  a 
voice  from  heaven  saying  unto  me.  Write,  Blessed  are  the 
dead  which  die  in  the  Lord  from  henceforth.  Even  so,  saith 
the  Spirit ;  for  they  rest  from  their  labors."  Not  as  the 
heretics  of  old  vainly  and  coldly  dreamed,  as  if  they  slept 
without  thought  or  stir  of  consciousness  from  the  hour  of 
death  to  the  morning  of  the  resurrection.     Their  rest  is  not 


246  THE  SLEEP  OF  THE  [Serm. 

the  rest  of  a  stone,  cold  and  lifeless ;  but  of  wearied  hu- 
manity. They  rest  from  their  labors ;  they  have  no  more 
persecution,  nor  stoning,  nor  scourging,  nor  crucifying  ;  no 
more  martyrdoms  by  fire,  or  the  wheel,  or  barbed  shafts ; 
they  have  no  more  false-witness,  nor  cutting  tongues ;  no 
more  bitterness  of  heart,  nor  iron  entering  into  the  soul ;  no 
more  burdens  of  wrong,  nor  amazement,  nor  perplexity. 
Never  again  shall  they  weep  for  unkindness,  and  disap- 
pointment, and  withered  hopes,  and  desolation  of  heart. 
All  is  over  now :  they  have  passed  under  the  share.  The 
ploughers  ploughed  upon  their  back,  and  made  long  furrows; 
but  it  is  all  over,  never  to  begin  again.  They  rest,  too,  from 
the  weight  of  "  the  body  of  our  humiliation" — from  its  suf- 
ferings and  pains.  Their  last  sickness  is  over.  They  shall 
never  again  bear  the  tokens  of  coming  dissolution  :  no  more 
the  hollow  eye  and  the  sharp  lines  of  distress,  and  the  hues 
of  fading  loveliness.  Now  is  their  weariness  changed  into 
refreshment ;  their  weakness  into  excellence  of  strength ; 
their  wasting  into  a  spirit  ever  new  ;  their  broken  words 
into  the  perfection  of  praise ;  their  weeping  into  a  chant  of 
bliss.  And  not  only  so,  but  they  rest  also  from  their  war- 
fare against  sin,  against  all  its  strength,  and  subtilties,  and 
snares.  Satan  can  tempt  no  more,  the  world  cannot  lure, 
self  cannot  betray :  they  have  wrestled  out  the  strife  with 
the  unseen  powers  of  the  wicked  one,  and  they  have  won 
the  mastery :  there  is  no  more  inward  struggle,  no  sliding 
back  again,  no  swerving  aside,  no  danger  of  falling:  they 
have  gained  the  shore  of  eternal  peace.  Above  all,  they 
rest  from  the  buffetings  of  evil  in  themselves.  It  is  not 
persecution,  nor  oppression,  nor  the  rage  of  Satan,  nor  the 
thronging  assaults  of  temptation,  that  so  afflict  a  holy  man, 
as  the  consciousness  that  evil  dwells  in  his  own  inmost  soul. 
It  is  the  clinging  power  of  spiritual  evil  that  sullies  his  whole 


XXLl  FAITHFUL  DEPARTED.  247 

being :  it  seems  to  run  through  him  in  every  part ;  it  cleaves 
to  every  movement  of  his  life  ;  his  living  powers  are  bur- 
dened and  biassed  by  its  grasp.  Evil  tempers  in  sudden 
flashes,  unholy  thoughts  shooting  across  the  soul,  and  kind- 
ling fires  in  the  imagination,  thoughts  of  self  in  holiest 
seasons,  consciousness  of  self  in  holiest  acts,  indevoutness 
of  spirit,  earthliness  of  heart,  dull  musing  heaviness  in  the 
life  of  God, — all  these  burden  even  saints  with  an  oppressive 
weight.  They  feel  always  the  stretch  and  tension  of  their 
spiritual  frame,  as  a  man  that  is  weary  and  breathless 
grappling  with  a  foe  whom,  if  he  would  live,  he  must  hold 
powerless  to  the  earth.  But  from  all  this,  too,  they  rest. 
The  sin  that  dwelt  in  them  died,  when  through  death  they 
began  to  live.  The  unimpeded  soul  puts  forth  its  new-born 
life,  as  a  tree  in  a  kindly  soil  invited  by  a  gentle  sky  :  all 
that  checked  it  is  passed  away  ;  all  that  draws  it  into  ripe- 
ness bathes  it  with  fostering  power.  Then,  at  last,  shall 
the  bride  hear  the  Bridegroom's  voice  ;  "  Rise  up,  my  love, 
my  fair  one,  and  come  av/ay ;  for,  lo,  the  winter  is  past,  the 
rain  is  over  and  gone."*  The  Refiner  shall  perfect  His 
work  upon  them,  cleansing  them  seven-fold,  even  as  gold 
seven  times  tried  ;  and  all  the  taint  and  bias  of  their  spiritual 
being  shall  be  detached  and  corrected  ;  till,  by  direct  and 
intense  vision — not  as  now  in  a  glass  darkly,  but  then  face 
to  face — they  shall  become  pure  even  as  He  is  pure. 
Hidden  as  is  the  condition  of  their  sleep,  may  we  not 
believe  that  they  remember  us  ?  How  much  of  all  that 
they  were  must  they  forfeit,  if  they  lose  both  memory  and 
love !  Shall  we  think,  that  we  can  remember  Bethel,  and 
Gibeon,  and  the  Valley  of  Ajalon,  and  Jerusalem,  and  the 
Mount  of  Olives ;  but  that  Jacob,  and  Joshua,  and  David, 
and  the  beloved  disciple,  remember  them  not  ?     Or  shall 

*  Song  of  Solomon  ii.  10,  11. 


248  THE  SLEEP  OF  THE  [Serml 

the  lifeless  dust  that  their  feet  stood  upon  be  remembered, 
and  the  living  spirits,  who  there  dwelt  with  them,  be  clean 
forgotten  ?  Surely  we  may  believe  that  they  who  live  unto 
God,  live  in  the  unfolded  sameness  of  personal  identity, 
replenished  with  charity,  and  filled  with  a  holy  light ; 
reaching  backward  in  spirit  into  this  world  of  warfare,  and 
onward  in  blissful  expectation  to  the  day  of  Christ's  coming  : 
and  in  that  holy  waiting  adore,  as  the  brightness  of  paradise 
ever  waxes  unto  the  perfect  day,  when  the  noontide  of  God's 
kingdom  "  shall  be  as  the  light  of  seven  days,"  and  shall 
stand  for  ever  in  a  meridian  splendor.  He  hath  made  His 
rest  to  be  "glorious;"  and  there  is  He  gathering  in  His 
jewels.  There  is  the  multitude  of  saints,  waiting  and 
worshipping:  Abel  is  there,  and  Isaiah,  and  Rachael  who 
v/ould  not  be  comforted,  and  the  sonless  v^^idow,  and  Mary 
Magdalene,  and  all  martyrs,  and  all  the  holy  ones  of  God. 
They  wore  out  with  patience  the  years  of  this  toilsome  life  ; 
and  ibey  are  resting  now.  They  "  sleep  in  Jesus."  Theirs 
is  a  bliss  only  less  perfect  than  the  glory  of  His  kingdom 
when  the  new  creation  shall  be  accomplished. 

For  these  reasons,  then,  death  is  changed  to  sleep ;  so 
that  it  becomes  a  pledge  of  rest,  and  a  prophecy  of  the 
resurrection. 

And  now  consider  shortly  a  few  thoughts  which  follow 
from  what  has  been  said. 

And,  first;  we  ought  to  mourn  rather  for  the  living  than 
for  the  dead.  For  these  six  thousand  years  the  whole  earth 
has  been  full  of  wailing  for  the  dead.  And  it  was  well  for 
the  heathen,  when  they  beheld  the  body  of  death,  to  bewail 
in  passionate  complaint  the  change  and  decay  of  their  be- 
loved ones.  But  not  for  us,  who  dwell  in  the  new  creation. 
If  we  needs  must  weep,  then  let  us  not  weep  for  the  dead, 
for  they  are  at  rest ;  but  let  us  weep  for  the  living,  for  they 


XXI.]  FAITHFUL  DEPARTED.  249 

have  yet  to  die, — and  death  is  terrible.  For,  after  all,  death 
is  a  strange  and  awful  thing,  alien  from  a  living  spirit.  It 
is  a  thing  of  fear ;  full  of  confused  throes,  and  perturbations, 
and  of  shadows  cast  from  the  powers  of  evil.  The  dissolv- 
ing of  the  bands  of  the  flesh  is  a  dark  and  fearful  change, 
against  which  nature  struggles,  and  in  struggling  suffers 
agony.  And  the  passing  of  the  soul  is  awful  even  to  the 
saints.  "Who  can  so  much  as  imagine  the  faintest  thought 
of  that  fearful  going  forth  of  the  houseless  spirit  into  the 
wide  world  unseen  ;  or  of  the  first  sights  and  sounds  which 
shall  throng  upon  its  vivid  consciousness  ?  What  are  all 
the  terrors  of  the  night-season  compared  with  that  hour  of 
fear?  "In  thoughts  from  the  visions  of  the  night,  when 
deep  sleep  falleth  on  men,  fear  came  upon  me,  and  trem- 
bling, which  made  all  my  bone-s  to  shake.  Then  a  spirit 
passed  before  my  face ;  the  hair  of  my  flesh  stood  up  :  it 
stood  still,  but  I  could  not  discern  the  form  thereof:  an 
image  was  before  mine  eyes,  there  was  silence,  and  I  heard 
a  voice,  saying,  Shall  mortal  man  be  more  just  than  God  ? 
shall  a  man  be  more  pure  than  his  Maker?"  But  what  is 
this  to  the  passing  of  the  soul  into  the  piercing  eyesight  of 
our  Judge  ?  Wherefore  let  no  man  weep  for  the  dead  : 
that  awful  change  for  them  is  over.  For  this  end  we  came 
into  the  world.  They  have  ftilfilled  their  task;  ours  tarri- 
eth.  Almost  we  are  ready  to  say,  would  it  were  over!  — 
O  fearful  death  !  It  has  a  lure  which  thrills  in  all  my  soul, 
and  seems  to  draw  me  to  itself;  it  fixes  me  by  the  fascina- 
tion of  its  eye.  Death  is  coming  towards  me.  I  must  one 
day  die,  and  "  how  am  I  straitened  till  it  be  accomplished  !" 
Blessed  and  happy  dead !  great  and  mighty  dead  !  In  them 
the  work  of  the  new  creation  is  well  nigh  accomplished. 
What  feebly  stirs  in  us,  in  them  is  well-nigh  full.  They 
have  passed  within  the  veil,  and  there  remaineth  only  one 


250  THE  SLEEP  OF  THE  [Serm. 

more  change  for  them — a  change  full  of  a  foreseen,  fore- 
tasted bliss.  How  calm,  how  pure,  how  sainted,  are 
they  now  !  A  few  short  years  ago,  and  they  were  almost 
as  weak  and  poor  as  we  :  burdened  with  the  dying  body 
we  now  bear  about ;  harassed  by  temptations,  often  over- 
come, weeping  in  bitterness  of  soul,  struggling,  with  faithful 
though  fearful  hearts,  towards  that  dark  shadow  from  which 
they  shrank  as  we  shrink  now. 

And,  lastly :  in  very  truth,  it  is  life,  rather  than  death, 
that  we  ought  to  fear.  For  life,  and  all  that  it  contains, — 
thought,  and  speech,  and  deed,  and  will, — is  a  deeper  and 
more  awful  mystery.  In  life  is  the  warfare  of  good  and  ill ; 
in  life  is  the  "  hour  and  the  power  of  darkness,"  the  lures 
and  the  assaults  of  the  wicked  one.  Here  is  no  rest,  no 
shelter,  no  safety.  What  a  charge,  what  a  stewardship,  is 
this  little,  fleeting,  squandered  life  of  man  !  In  every  hour 
of  it  we  are  changing  for  good  or  ill ;  ever  growing  better 
or  worse,  nearer  or  farther  from  God,  nearer  to  heaven  or 
to  hell.  Surely,  life,  with  all  its  powers,  capacities,  proba- 
tion, and  reponsibility,  is  a  thing  to  tremble  at.  And  yet 
we  are  in  the  midst  of  it ;  and  the  world  is  moving  on  around 
us,  and  we  are  caught  and  drawn  along  in  its  movements, 
and  all  our  life  is  gathering  itself  up  for  one  great  cast ; 
and  few  men  know  for  what.*  Their  life  is  lived  for  them. 
Powers  from  without  shape  their  character  and  fix  their 
doom,  and  they  are  dragged  along  in  a  bondage  of  custom, 
which  their  fearless  trifling  with  life  has  made  to  be  irre- 
sistible. And  who  shall  not  fear  the  changes  and  chances 
of  this  mortal  life  ?  Who.  even  the  most  resolved  ?  Between 
this  hour  and  the  hour  of  death,  who  can  foresee  what  may 
befall  us  ?  what  unknown  swervings,  what  stumblings,  what 
falls  ?  Who  shall  promise  himself  the  gift  of  perseverance  ? 
Who  can  but  fear  his  own  heart's  treachery  ?     Who  but 


KXL]  FAITHFUL  DEPARTED.  251 

tremble  at  the  awful  words  uttered  by  the  Church  as  often 
as  she  buries  her  dead  out  of  her  sight — words  not  less  of 
warning  than  of  prayer,  words  of  depth  unutterable:  "O 
holy  and  most  merciful  Saviour,  suffer  us  not  at  our  last 
hour  for  any  pains  of  death  to  fall  from  Thee."  Wherefore 
let  us  fear  life,  and  we  shall  not  be  afraid  to  die.  For  in 
the  new  creation  of  God  death  walks  harmless.  Christ 
hath  plucked  out  the  sting ;  and  "  the  sucking  child  shall 
play  on  the  hole  of  the  asp,  and  the  weaned  child  shall  put 
his  hand  on  the  cockatrice's  den."  All  is  healed  by  Him 
who  hath  given  His  own  flesh  "  for  the  life  of  the  world." 
Therefore,  when  at  last  it  comes  nigh,  we  shall  behold  its 
darkness  pierced  every  way  by  rays  of  a  living  light,  and 
the  gloom  of  its  dread  presence  softened  with  the  radiance 
of  eternal  peace.  Even  though  our  last  passage  be  fearful 
to  the  flesh,  though  we  be  called  to  follow  through  the  fire 
of  a  bodily  anguish,  still  in  the  midst  of  all,  and  with  we 
know  not  as  yet  what  gracious  visitations  to  allay  our 
closing  struggle, — even  as  they  had  of  old,  who  bare  wit- 
ness from  the  torture  and  the  flame, — we  shall  fall  asleep. 
Let  us  therefore  be  much  in  thought  with  them  that  are  at 
rest.  They  await  our  coming ;  for  without  us  they  shall 
"  not  be  made  perfect."  Let  us  therefore  remember,  and 
love,  and  follow  them  ;  that  when  our  last  change  is  over, 
we,  with  them,  may  "  sleep  in  Jesus." 


SERMON   XXII. 


THE  COMMEMORATION  OF  THE  FAITHFUL  DEPARTED. 


1  Cor.  XV.  51. 
"  We  shall  not  all  sleep,  but  we  shall  be  changed." 

It  is  plain  from  the  writings  of  St.  Paul,  that  even  the 
apostles  of  our  Lord  did  not  know  but  that  their  Master's 
coming  might  be  in  their  own  lifetime.  He  had,  for  the 
secret  ends  of  His  divine  wisdom,  left  the  day  of  His  return 
unknown,  that  they  might  never  give  over  watching.  With 
them  the  strange  thing  was,  not  that  He  should  be  so  near 
at  hand,  but  that  He  should  tarry  so  long.  But  time  ran  on. 
Some  were  called  away  from  their  earthly  vigil:  they  began 
one  by  one  to  fall  asleep :  they  whose  eyes  were  dim  with 
age,  and  the  martyrs  who  were  early  bid  to  follow  their 
Lord  unseen :  and  as  the  time  still  lingered,  and  the  storm 
fell  upon  the  Church,  the  visible  fellowship  of  saints  grew 
thin,  and  apostles,  evangelists,  bishops,  and  holy  brethren, 
fell  asleep  one  by  one.  But  the  Church  neither  forgot 
them,  nor  deemed  that  they  were  severed  from  her  fellow- 
ship. The  communion  of  saints  was  a  part  of  their  baptismal 
faith ;  and  though  hid  from  her  eyes,  she  knew  they  were 


Serm.  XXII.]  THE  COMMEMORATION,  ETC.  253 

nigh  ill  spirit.  And  she  fostered  them  in  memory,  and 
wrote  their  names  in  her  book;  and  whensoever  the  saints, 
that  were  still  left  on  earth  to  watch  for  the  Lord,  met 
together  in  the  communion  of  the  holy  eucharist,  she  read 
aloud  their  names,  as  bidding  them  to  their  wonted  place 
in  her  choir.  She  commemorated  them  with  thanksgivings, 
and  commended  them  to  God's  keeping  as  her  precious 
treasures. 

Now  this  was  done,  first  of  all,  out  of  love  to  them  and 
to  their  image.  She  fondly  cherished  every  remembrance 
of  their  words  and  deeds,  of  their  gentleness  and  purity  : 
she  rejoiced  over  them  with  a  sorrowful  gladness,  as  a 
mother  musing  over  departed  children:  she  could  no  longer 
behold  them,  an.d  break  bread  with  them ;  but  she  coul-d 
prolong  their  presence  by  the  vivid  recollection  of  their 
beloved  image,  and  by  the  consciousness  of  an  united 
adoration :  she  knew  that  while  she  tarried  praying  without, 
they  were  but  within  the  precinct  of  an  inner  court,  nearer 
to  the  eternal  throne. 

And  next,  she  commemorated  them  in  faith,  to  keep  up 
the  conscious  unity  of  the  Church.  They  were  not  severed, 
but  only  out  of  sight.  The  communion  of  saints  was  still 
one.  Nothing  was  changed  but  the  visible  relations  of  an 
earthly  life ;  all  the  unseen  relations  of  love  and  fond 
attachment  still  remained,  nay,  were  knit  more  closely  ; 
for  they  that  were  yet  watching  had  for  them  an  intenser 
love,  softened  and  purified  by  sorrow ;  and  they  that  slept 
were  filled  with  the  love  of  God.  The  unity  of  the  saints 
on  earth  with  the  Church  unseen  is  the  closest  bond  of  all. 
Hell  has  no  power  over  it;  sin  cannot  blight  it;  schism 
cannot  rend  it ;  death  itself  can  but  knit  it  more  strongly. 
Nothing  was  changed  but  the  relation  of  sight ;  like  as 
when  the  head  of  a  far-stretching  procession,  winding  through 


■i^ 


254  THE  COMMEMORATION  OF  [Sbrm. 

a  broken  hollow  land,  hides  itself  in  some  bending  vale  :  it 
is  still  all  one;  all  advancing  together;  they  that  are  farthest 
onward  in  the  way  are  conscious  of  their  lengthened  follow- 
ing; they  that  linger  with  the  last  are  drawn  forward,  as  it 
were,  by  the  attraction  of  the  advancing  multitude.  Even 
so  they  knew  themselves  to  be  ever  moving  on ;  they  were 
ever  pressing  on  beyond  the  bounds  of  this  material  world. 
They  knew  the  life  of  the  Church  to  be  one,  and  indivisible ; 
that,  seen  or  unseen,  there  was  but  one  energy  of  spiritual 
being,  in  which  all  were  united ;  that  all  were  nourished 
by  the  same  hidden  manna,  and  slaked  their  thirst  in  the 
same  waters  of  life.  They  were  one  in  the  personality  of 
Christ's  mystical  body ;  and  all  their  acts  of  love  and 
adoration  were  shared  in  full  by  each  several  member. 

Again;  they  commemorated  their  sleeping  brethren  in 
faith,  that  they  might  give  God  the  glory  of  their  salvation 
from  this  evil  world.  They  ceased  not  to  render  the 
sacrifice  of  thanks  to  Him  for  His  accomplished  mercy  in 
forgiving  them  their  many  sins.  They  remembered  what 
they  had  been  at  the  first;  how  from  blind  Judaism,  or 
blinder  heathenism,  or  a  proud  philosophy,  or  from  a  sensual 
life,  God  had  translated  them  "  into  the  kingdom  of  His 
dear  Son  ;"  how  He  had  made  them  new  creatures.  They 
did  not  forget  John  Baptist,  and  the  ever-blessed  Virgin, 
and  John  the  beloved  disciple,  and  Mary  Magdalene,  and 
Saul  the  persecutor,  and  those  vessels  of  grace  in  whom 
was  reflected  the  fulness  of  God's  pardoning  mercy.  In 
the  commemoration  of  the  saints,  they  showed  forth  the 
manifold  grace  of  Christ,  and  the  manifold  fruits  of  His 
mysterious  passion  ;  and  thus,  while  they  lovingly  cherished 
their  memories,  they  also,  and  above  all,  glorified  the  King 
of  Saints.  But  they  had  also  another  design  in  this  act  of 
commemoration  ;   namely,  to  stir  up  the  faithful  in  their 


XXII.]  THE  FAITHFUL  DEPARTED.  255 

warfare  by  the  deeds  of  the  saints  in  rest.  Well  did  they 
know  that  nothing  preaches  like  example.  The  day  was 
not  come  when  men  should  undertake  by  words  and  lifeless 
signs  alone  to  win  souls  for  Christ.  They  knew  that  words 
are  as  weak  as  deeds  are  almighty;  that  Moses  was  slow 
of  tongue,  and  that  some  deemed  even  the  speech  of  Paul 
contemptible  ;  that  deeds  carry  all  before  them.  Therefore 
they  unrolled,  year  after  year,  and  feast  after  feast,  the 
catalogue  of  saints,  and  read  aloud  their  warfare  and  their 
victory;  thereby  to  embolden  with  a  holy  daring  the  Church 
militant  on  earth  ;  to  put  a  new  heart  and  a  new  life  into 
the  weary  and  the  wavering ;  to  show  what  is  possible, 
what  is  easy,  for  regenerate  man  to  do ;  to  provoke  us  to  a 
manlier  faith  by  desire  for  a  crown  like  theirs,  and  by 
shame  at  a  life  like  our  own. 

I  have  now  stated  generally  the  intention  of  the  Church 
in  keeping  up  the  memory  of  her  sleeping  members.  It 
arose  naturally,  and  by  the  unconscious  promptings  of  love 
and  faith.  The  perpetual  commemoration  of  the  saints 
fulfilled,  even  in  the  ages  of  the  most  enkindled  charity 
and  of  the  keenest  faith,  high  and  significant  offices  in  the 
witness  of  the  Church.  But  most  of  all  is  it  of  moment 
now,  in  days  when  faith  is  faint,  and  the  love  of  many  hath 
waxed  cold.  We  will,  then,  consider  awhile,  of  what 
especial  moment  is  this  affectionate  commemoration  in 
feasts  and  eucharists  to  the  Church  of  these  latter  times. 

And,  first  of  all,  it  is  a  witness  against  what  I  may  call 
the  Sadduceeism  of  Christianity.  It  is  strange  enough 
that  faith  and  love  should  have  waxed  so  chill  and  dead 
among  the  Jews  of  old,  that  any  should  have  arisen  to 
deny  the  resurrection,  and  the  very  being  of  angels  and  of 
spirits;  but  stranger  far  that  Christians  should  be  sunk  so 
low  in  cold,  unfeeling   torpor,  as  to   live  forgetful  of  the 


256  THE  COMMEMORATION  OF  [Serm. 

world  unseen.  Alas,  how  awful  is  the  chastisement  which 
follows  on  irreverent  handling  of  holy  things  !  Our  fore- 
fathers too  boldly  ventured  in  within  the  veil,  and  troubled 
the  sleep  of  the  saints  with  importunate  invocations ;  and 
thrust  upon  the  followers  of  Him,  who  sought  to  hide  Him- 
self when  men  would  have  come  to  make  Him  a  king,  offices 
and  dignities  in  God's  kingdom,  of  which  the  prerogative  is 
God's  only.  And  from  these  first  bold  steps  they  passed 
on  to  a  prying  curiosity  into  the  secrets  of  God's  hidden 
world  ;  and  must  needs  mete  out  the  measures  and  condi- 
tions of  the  holy  and  unholy  dead,  and  leave  little  known 
to  God  alone,  but  know  all  things,  even  beyond  His  reve- 
lations, and  before  His  time  :  and  in  the  realms  of  the 
unseen  they  grew  bewildered,  and  thought  they  saw  hor- 
rible phantoms,  which  mocked  them  into  a  belief  of  their 
own  fevered  imaginations.  And  on  these  they  built  up  a 
lying  doctrine,  and  beguiled  men  by  a  still  more  lying 
practice,  and  turned  the  unseen  world  into  a  fable,  and  the 
commemoration  of  the  saints  into  a  snare.  And  from  this, 
by  a  not  unnatural  recoil,  what  they  over-fondly  doated  on, 
we  have  coldly  forgotten.  The  superstition  of  ages  past 
has  recoiled  into  the  Sadduceeism  of  to-day.  I  am  not 
speaking  of  free-thinkers,  but  of  good  and  earnest  people. 
They  so  overlook  the  time  between  death  and  resurrection, 
as  virtually  to  shut  it  out  of  their  belief:  they  make  it 
almost  a  test  of  sound  doctrine  to  leave  out  all  teaching  of 
the  unseen  state.  With  the  entire  book  of  the  Apocalypse 
before  their  eyes,  of  which  (except  the  last  two  chapters) 
the  whole  relates  to  the  lifetime  of  this  visible  world,  and 
the  parallel  state  of  waiting  and  adoration  in  the  world 
invisible,  they  think  a  cold  reserve  the  surest  token  of 
illuminated  faith.  Not,  indeed,  when  sorrow  breaks  upon 
them,  and  loved  ones  pass  into  the  paradise  of  God :  then 


XXII-l  THE  FAITHFUL  DEPARTED.  257 

love,  and  nature,  and  truth,  are  too  strong  for  them  ;  and 
the  instincts  and  affections  of  their  new-born  hearts,  long 
pent  up  in  a  forced  and  unnatural  constraint,  come  down 
in  full  tide  upon  them,  and  carry  them  over  the  narrow 
bounds  of  their  unsympathising  theology.  A  riven  heart  is 
the  best  expositor  of  God's  teaching  about  the  saints  asleep. 
Few  have  ever  sorrowed,  and  missed  learning  mysteries 
of  consolation.  Sometimes,  alas,  this  is  not  so.  The 
habitual  unconsciousness  of  an  unseen  world,  in  which  even 
good  men  have  been  content  to  live,  so  insensibly  deadens 
the  quickness  of  the  spiritual  perceptions,  that  the  heaviest 
sorrow  leaves  upon  their  hearts  but  a  shallow  and  short- 
lived impress  of  the  intermediate  state.  For  a  while  their 
affections  follow  the  departing  spirit;  and  it  may  be 
they  think  their  hearts  will  never  return  to  this  rough 
world,  but  dwell  within  the  veil  for  ever.  In  a  little  time 
the  first  visions  of  the  realities  unseen,  be  they  never  so 
vivid,  begin  to  fade  into  a  colder  light :  and  realities  soften 
off  into  shadows,  and  shadows  melt  into  films,  and  from 
films  they  draw  themselves  into  motes  ;  and  this  world  and 
all  its  going-on  of  life,  and  the  hurryings  to  and  fro  of  every 
day,  and  the  emptiness  of  home,  and  the  loneliness  of  night, 
and  the  returning  sadness  of  the  morrow,  so  throng  about 
a  man,  and  first  lower  upon  him,  and  then  settle  heavily 
upon  him,  that  many  give  back  from  their  first  feelings, 
and  unbind  their  resolutions,  and  shrink  from  the  severe 
life  of  walking  alone  on  the  brink  of  the  world  unseen. 
The  end  of  this  is,  that  they  become  again,  for  the  most 
part,  what  they  were  before:  humbler,  and,  perhaps,  more 
softened,  more  tender  ;  on  the  whole,  more  religious, — but 
still  entangled  in  the  near  and  sensible  things  of  this  earthly 
life-  And  thus,  it  may  be,  they  make  forfeit  of  hidden 
blessings  which  God  has  tendered  to  them.     They  choose 

VOL.  I. -17. 


258  THE  COMMEMORATION  OF  [Serb. 

again  a  full  home  rather  than  an  empty  one,  fellowship 
rather  than  loneliness,  a  lower  rather  than  a  higher  level 
in  the  life  of  God. 

But  though  this  may  be  found  even  in  better  men,  the 
full  Sadduceeism^  of  the  day  is  to  be  seen  in  the  great  mass 
of  less  earnest  minds.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say,  that  in  a 
little  while  they  have  forgotten  the  dead.  Of  course  there 
are  exceptions :  warm  hearts  will  always  cling,  by  an 
involuntary  and  almost  unconscious  fondness,  to  the 
memory  of  the  departed.  But  here  is  the  very  difference : 
it  is  to  their  memorj^  not  to  their  fellowship  ;  to  what  they 
were,  not  to  what  they  are.  They  look  back  on  them,  and 
remember  their  poor  struggling  humanity,  their  life  of 
earth,  their  body  of  humiliation  ;  all  the  endearing  images 
which  come  back  upon  them  are  of  early  days,  and  gleams 
of  transient  happiness,  and  soft  smiles,  and  softer  tears, 
and  the  smooth  cheek,  and  the  full  eye  of  this  life's  painted 
fairness  ;  so  that,  after  all,  it  is  an  embodied  image,  a 
dream  of  the  earth,  that  such  fond  hearts  still  dwell  upon. 
Oh,  that  they  had  learned  a  higher  and  a  holier  lore  ! 
Their  loved  ones  are  still  the  same,  and  yet  are  not  what 
they  were :  they  have  passed  from  the  humiliation  of  the 
body  to  the  majesty  of  the  spirit.  The  weakness,  and  the 
littleness,  and  the  abasement  of  life,  are  gone ;  they  are 
now  excellent  in  strength  full  of  heavenly  light,  ardent 
with  love,  above  fallen  humanity,  akin  to  angels.  And  it 
is  we  that  pity  the  dead,  call  them  poor,  and  shed  tears 
over  the  coil  of  dust,  which  ihey  put  off  at  their  exaltation. 
The  living  pity  the  dead  ?  horrible  pride  !  blind  folly  ! 
while  it  may  be  they  muse  sadly  and  lovingly  on  us,  and 
on  our  burdened  and  fretful  life. 

Most  earthly  are  the  thoughts  respecting  the  sleeping 
saints  even  in  better  minds  :   as  for  the  rest  of  men,  they 


XXII.]  THE  FAITHFUL  DEPARTED.  259 

soon  forget  them.  When  they  have  buried  their  dead  out 
of  their  sight,  the  unseen  world  closes  up  with  the  mouth 
of  the  grave ;  and  they  turn  back  to  their  homes,  and  muse 
in  sadness  how  they  may  begin  to  weave  the  same  web 
over  again,  and  make  a  new  cast  for  happiness,  and  begin 
life  afresh.  It  makes  one's  blood  run  cold  to  hear  some 
people  talk  of  the  departed.  And  why  is  all  this  ?  What 
should  put  so  unnatural  a  force  upon  the  very  instincts  of 
the  heart,  but  the  cold  tradition  of  a  Christian  Sadduceeism? 
Against  this,  then,  the  commemoration  of  the  Church  is  a 
direct  and  wholesome  witness. 

Another  most  excellent  benefit  of  this  commemoration 
is,  its  tendency  to  heal  the  schisms  of  the  visible  Church. 
No  particular  branch  of  the  visible  body  can  be  in  energetic 
unity  with  the  fellowship  of  other  Churches,  so  long  as  its 
fellowship  with  the  Church  unseen  is  suspended.  This 
contact  with  the  invisible  is  the  life  of  the  visible  Church: 
when  once  the  bond  of  faith  and  love  with  this  is  loosened, 
the  bond  of  visible  unity  also  is  well  nigh  dissolved.  In  all 
the  contests  of  the  Church  on  earth,  all  her  members,  be 
they  never  so  much  divided  (unless  by  heresy  or  schism,) 
still  hold  communion  in  the  court  of  heaven.  They  all  find 
a  common  head  in  the  King,  and  a  common  fellowship  in 
the  communion  of  saints.  Their  hearts  make,  as  it  were,  a 
silent  appeal  from  each  other's  misunderstandings  to  that 
world  where  all  things  are  fully  understood.  In  the  glorious 
company  of  the  apostles,  the  goodly  fellowship  of  the  pro- 
phets, the  noble  army  of  martyrs,  the  holy  Church  throughout 
all  the  world  is  one.  The  eastern  and  the  western  are  one 
in  Athanasius  and  Cyprian,  in  Basil  and  Augustine ;  and  in 
the  lines  of  holy  bishops,  and  the  companies  of  blessed 
saints  long  ago  fallen  asleep,  the  Churches  of  the  west  are 
one.     Schisms  are  half  healed  when  hearts  are  chafed  into 


260  THE  COMMEMORATION  OF  [Serm 

love  towards  one  common  object :  even  as  alienated  sons 
meet  and  embrace  in  their  love  to  one  fond  mother.  And 
as  the  saints  of  Christendom  are  the  unearthly  bond  even 
of  divided  Churches,  so  is  the  hallowed  ancestry  of  each 
particular  Church  a  bond  of  unity  to  its  several  members. 
Men  are  already  half  reconciled  when  they  have  agreed  to 
honor  one  and  the  same  spiritual  lineage.  It  calls  them  out 
of  themselves,  and  corrects  the  lordliness  and  pride  of  the 
individual  will.  Oh,  how  infinitely  mean  appears  all  our 
fretfulness  and  littleness,  which  we  would  fain  impose  on 
others,  and  on  ourselves,  as  zeal  for  truth,  and  jealousy  for 
the  glory  of  God  !  If  they  that  sleep  could  read  to  us  out 
of  the  book  of  their  earthly  life,  how  should  we  burn  for 
shame  at  the  poverty  of  our  own  !  Therefore  the  Church 
commemorates  their  earthly  warfare,  that  we  may  go  forth 
out  of  ourselves  in  a  reverent  love  for  those  whose  sanctity 
abashes  our  inflated  self-esteem.  She  bids  us  remember 
that,  in  comparison  with  her  mighty  dead,  we  are  but 
worms ;  that  the  Church  is  not  ours  to  rend  and  set  in 
array,  nor  to  patronise,  and  irreverently  praise ;  that  we 
are  but  one  of  a  flowing  tide  of  generations — one  only — 
and  that  neither  the  wisest  nor  the  best.  Better  were  it  for 
us  to  stand  in  awe  at  our  own  littleness.  We  are  but  a 
handful  of  restless,  fretful,  self-exalting  children  in  the  sight 
of  the  Church  unseen. 

Therefore,  year  by  year,  let  us  reverently  commemorate 
their  names,  remembering  what  they  were,  but  stedfastly 
gazing  at  what  they  are.  Their  very  words  are  still  ringing 
in  our  ears  :  of  some  the  beloved  image  too  is  full  before 
us.  Let  us  live  as  they  would  bid  us,  could  they  still 
speak :  let  us  fulfil  their  known  behests,  following  in  their 
steps,  filling  up  the  works  that  they  began,  carrying  on  their 
hallowed  offices  now  bequeathed  to  our  care:  let  us  be  like 


XXIII.]  THE  FAITHFUL  DEPARTED.  261 

them  in  deadness  to  sin,  and  unceasing  homage  to  our  un- 
seen Lord.  As  we  grow  holier,  we  grow  nearer  to  them  : 
to  be  like  them  is  to  be  with  them  ;  even  now  they  are  not 
far  from  us,  we  know  not  how  nigh.  As  yet,  for  a  time, 
the  veil  is  drawn.  We  shall  know  all  at  His  coming.  It 
may  be,  we  shall  say — What !  so  near,  and  we  could  not 
see  you?  At  times  we  could  almost  fancy  we  were  not 
alone;  but  when  we  strained  our  sight,  we  saw  nothing; 
when  we  listened,  all  was  still. 


^» 


SERMON  XXIII. 


THE  WAITING  OF  THE  INVISIBLE  CHURCH. 


Rev.  vi.  9,  10,  11. 
"  And  when  He  had  opened  the  fifth  seal,  I  saw  under  the  altar  the 
souls  of  them  that  were  slain  for  the  word  of  God,  and  for  the  testi- 
mony which  they  held.  And  they  cried  with  a  loud  voice,  saying, 
How  long,  O  Lord,  holy  and  true,  dost  Thou  not  judge  and  avenge 
our  blood  on  them  that  dwell  on  the  earth  ?  And  white  robes  were 
given  unto  every  one  of  them;  and  it  was  said  unto  them,  that  they 
should  rest  yet  for  a  little  season  until  their  fellow-servants  also 
and  their  brethren,  that  should  be  killed  as  they  were,  should  be 
fulfilled." 

These  are  the  sights  and  sounds  which  St.  John  saw  and 
heard  in  heaven,  when  the  Lamb  had  opened  the  fifth  of 
the  seven  seals  which  made  fast  the  awful  book.  He  saw 
an  altar,  and  under  it  the  souls  of  Christ's  faithful  servants 
who  had  been  slain  for  His  sake.  And  they  were  weary 
of  waiting  for  the  day  when  God  should  judge  the  earth. 
They  were  at  rest,  and  yet  there  was  a  rising  of  desire  for 
the  end :  "  How  long,  O  Lord,  holy  and  true,  dost  Thou 
not  judge  and  avenge  our  blood?"  They  were  impatient, 
not  so  much  for  their  own  wrongs  as  for  the  glory  of  God. 


Sebm.  XXIII.]  THE  INVISIBLE  CHURCH.  263 

They  were  weary  that  sin  should  so  long  war  against  the 
Majesty  of  heaven;  that  God's  world  should  so  long  be  torn 
by  the  rending  strife  of  spiritual  evil.  They  had,  in  their 
lifetime,  made  full  trial  of  its  tyranny  and  hate  ;  and  the 
long  train  of  remembered  wrongs  heaped  on  them  for  their 
loyalty  to  Heaven  kindled  a  fire  in  their  souls.  But  the 
time  was  not  yet  come.  Very  awful  was  the  answer  to 
their  cry.  "  White  robes  were  given  unto  every  one  of 
them;"  some  larger  visitations  of  His  sustaining  grace: 
they  were  refreshed  in  their  weariness  by  some  mysterious 
gift;  and  it  was  said  unto  them — no  need  to  say  who  it 
was  that  bade  them  tarry,  for  who  but  He  could  stay  their 
yearnings? — it  was  said  unto  them,  "  that  they  should  rest 
yet  for  a  little  season."  God  had  a  work  yet  to  do.  Their 
fellow-servants  must  needs  be  slain  as  they  were  ;  and  all 
must  be  fulfilled.     Then  should  the  end  come. 

Now  there  is  one  point  in  this  to  which  we  will  direct 
our  thoughts  :  I  mean,  the  light  it  throws  upon  the  great 
mystery  of  Christ's  second  coming.  We  may  gather  with 
all  certainty  from  this  wonderful  revelation  of  the  inner 
mysteries  of  the  heavenly  court,  first,  that  God  has  a  fixed 
time  for  the  end  of  the  world.  This  we  know  from  our 
Lord's  words  while  He  was  yet  on  earth.  While  He  de- 
clared the  secrecy  of  that  lime  to  be  such  that  it  was  hidden 
from  all,  both  men  and  angels,  yet  He  specially  added, 
that  it  was  a  time  fixed  and  known  to  the  Father.  I  do  not 
mean  simply  known  as  all  things  must  be  known  to  an  all- 
knowing  God,  but  foreseen  and  fore-determined  in  the 
secrets  of  His  hidden  wisdom.  And  this  leads  on  to  another 
truth  revealed  in  the  same  vision ;  namely,  that  God  has 
fixed  that  time  according  to  the  measures  of  the  work  which 
He  has  to  finish :  even  as  Christ  had  a  work  to  finish  on 
earth ;  so  that  we  read,  again  and  again,  that  His  *'  hour 


264  THE  WAITING  OF  [Serm. 

wu.s  not  yet  come."  In  like  manner  now  in  heaven,  He 
has  a  definite  foreseen  scheme  for  the  administration  of  His 
mediatorial  kingdom;  and  according  to  the  accomplishing 
of  this  work,  will  be  the  time  of  His  coming.  So  much  in 
a  general  way.  But  in  this  passage  we  have  somewhat 
more  specific  and  detailed. 

1.  He  has  shadowed  out  to  us  the  nature  of  the  work 
that  He  has  to  do  before  the  end  come ;  that  is,  to  make  up 
a  certain  number  whom  God  has  foreseen  and  predestinated 
to  life  eternal.  This  we  read  throughout  Holy  Writ. 
"  They  shall  be  mine  in  that  day  when  I  make  up  my 
jewels,"*  the  Lord  has  said  by  the  prophet  Malachi. 
Then  shall  the  angels  "  gather  together  His  elect  from  the 
four  winds."!  And,  to  take  only  one  more  passage,  the 
eleventh  chapter  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  shows  us 
how  God  has  ever  been  gathering  out  His  chosen  ones, 
from  righteous  Abel  to  this  day.  After  running  down  the 
list  of  the  faithful,  St.  Paul  adds,  "  These  all  died  in  faith, 
not  having  received  the  promises,  but  having  seen  them 
afar  off,  and  were  persuaded  of  them,  and  embraced  them." 
And  again,  "  God  having  provided  some  better  thing  for 
us,  that  they  without  us  should  not  be  made  perfect."J 
Abel  waited  for  Enoch,  and  Enoch  for  Abraham,  and 
Abraham  for  Moses,  and  Moses  for  Paul ;  and  so  all  holy 
men,  bishops,  and  pastors,  and  saints,  along  the  whole  line 
of  this  world's  history,  have  waited  for  us ;  and  we  shall 
wait,  it  may  be,  for  others  yet  to  come.  God  is  gathering 
out  a  mystical  number — the  hundred  and  forty  and  four 
thousand,  which  is  a  symbol  of  all  numbers  innumerable — 
of  the  twelve  tribes  of  the  Israel  of  God  ;  and  He  has  been 
gathering  them  out  one  by  one,  from  an  age  or  a  generation, 
from  a  people,  a  family,  or  a  household,  taking  one,  and 

*  Mai.  iii.  17.  t  St.  Matt.  xxiv.  31.  t  Heb.  xi.  13  aud  40. 


XXIII.]  THE  INVISIBLE  CHURCH.  265 

leaving  another,  in  the  inscrutable  mystery  of  His  choice. 
Whether  this  secret  number  be  measured  by  the  fall  of 
angels,  as  some  of  old  were  wont  to  believe ;  whether  the 
companies  of  angelic  ministers  shall  be  filled  up  by  the 
redeemed  of  mankind, — we  know  not,  but  we  know  cer 
talnly  that,  until  the  foreseen  number  is  completed,  the 
course  of  this  turbulent  world  shall  still  run  on.  This, 
then,  in  general,  is  the  nature  and  direction  of  the  mystery 
of  this  seemingly  entangled  world.  Out  of  the  midst  of  it 
He  is  drawing  the  children  of  the  regeneration,  knitting 
them  in  one  fellowship,  in  part  still  visible,  in  part  out  of 
sight.  When  the  Son  of  God  passed  into  the  heavens.  He 
began  to  draw  after  Him  a  glorious  train  of  saints,  like  as 
the  departing  sun  seems  to  draw  after  him  the  lights  which 
reflect  his  own  splendor,  till  the  night  starts  out  full  of 
silver  stars.  So  shine  the  saints  in  an  evil  world ;  rising 
and  falling  above  the  boundaries  of  earth  in  stedfast  and 
silent  course,  till  all  are  lost  in  the  brightness  of  the  morning: 
and  so  shall  the  firmament  of  the  Church  break  forth  with 
the  glory  of  the  resurrection.  But  now,  for  a  while,  it 
tarries.  Some  saints  are  yet  in  the  mid-heaven,  and  some 
are  yet  to  rise  upon  the  world ;  and,  until  all  is  fulfilled, 
the  desire  of  the  Church  unseen  is  stayed  with  the  "  white 
robes,"  and  the  sound  of  the  Bridegroom's  voice. 

Again ;  in  this  gathering  out  of  the  mystical  body  of 
His  Son,  God  is  carrying  on  the  probation  of  mankind.  In 
the  inscrutable  secrets  of  His  providential  government,  He 
is  so  ordering  the  strife  of  the  seed  of  the  woman  with  the 
seed  of  the  serpent,  of  the  Church  with  the  world,  as  to 
fulfil  the  manifold  purposes  of  love  and  of  long-suffering. 

And,  first,  we  see  that  this  long-permitted  strife  is 
ordained  for  the  perfecting  of  His  saints. 

That  holy  fellowship  is  not  more  perfect  in  the  integrity 


266  THE  WAITING  OF  [Serm. 

of  its  number,  than  in  its  absolute  perfection  of  holiness. 
And  the  prolonged  duration  of  this  world  is  a  school  of 
discipline,  to  liken  them  to  their  perfect  Lord.  The 
powers  of  evil  which  are  arrayed  against  the  Majesty  of 
heaven,  are  so  overruled  by  the  Almighty  will  as  to  work 
out  unwittingly  His  high  behest.  The  continual  strife  of 
spiritual  good  and  evil  is  a  mystery,  of  which  we  know 
only  the  outskirts.  It  has  one  end  in  the  mystery  of  the 
fall,  and  the  other  in  the  mystery  of  the  atonement :  we 
know  not  vi^hat  are  the  effects  in  the  world  unseen  of  this 
never-ending  warfare.  It  is  in  some  way  related  to  the 
mystery  of  the  cross;  not,  indeed,  as  propitiatory,  which 
nothing  can  be,  but  as  a  carrying  out  and  consequence  of  that 
great  overthrow  of  evil  in  which  the  Conqueror  was  bruised 
by  the  foe  He  crushed.  Therefore  we  find  St.  Paul  speak- 
ing of  filling  up  that  which  is  behind  of  the  afflictions  of 
Christ  in  his  flesh  ;*  and  of  the  apostles  he  says,  that  they 
were  set  forth  last,  as  it  were  appointed  unto  death,  "a 
spectacle  unto  the  world,  and  to  angels,  and  to  men  :f  and 
*'  that  now  unto  the  principalities  and  powers  in  heavenly 
places  might  be  known,  by  the  Church,  the  manifold 
wisdom  of  God."  t  It  would  seem,  then,  that  this  relent- 
less strife  between  the  seed  of  the  serpent  and  the  body  of 
Christ  is  fulfilling  some  unrevealed  design  of  God  in  the 
world  unseen ;  that  even  the  spirits  of  heaven,  the  elect 
angels,  look  on  as  learners  upon  this  sleepless  war.  We 
are  greatly  ignorant  what  may  be  the  place  of  this  world 
in  the  universal  scheme  of  God's  creatures  ;  what  we  think 
to  be  a  great  and  final  end,  may  be  only  a  subordinate 
means  to  some  transcendent  purpose.  And  thus  much  is 
plainly  revealed  to  us,  that  the  trial  of  the  Church  and  the 
probation  of  the  world  shall  run  on  till  the  purpose  of  the 

*  Col.  i.  24.  .       1 1  Cor.  iv.  9.  t  Ephes.  iii.  10. 


XXIII.]  THE  INVISIBLE  CHURCH.  267 

Divine  wisdom  is  fulfilled.  And  this  was  the  key  of  the 
strange  earthly  lot  of  those  who  had  trial  of  cruel  mockings 
and  scourgings,  of  bonds  and  imprisonntient ;  who  were 
stoned,  were  sawn  asunder,  were  tempted,  were  slain  with 
the  sword  ;  who  wandered  about  in  sheepskins  and  goat- 
skins, being  destitute,  afflicted,  tormented ;  of  whom  the 
world  was  not  worthy.  When  they  and  their  cause  seemed 
lost  for  ever,  then  were  they  more  than  conquerors  ;  even 
as  Christ  then  overcame  when  He  was  crucified.  In  each 
one  of  them  He  overcame  again.  When  they  suffered 
most,  they  most  mightily  triumphed  over  the  serpent. 
Let  us  remember,  that  not  martyrs  only  are  perfected 
through  sufferings.  They,  indeed,  are  made  glorious  by 
a  share  of  His  sufferings  in  the  flesh  :  but  of  His  sorrow 
and  self-denial  all  saints  are  partakers.  The  world  is  still 
the  same ;  bitter,  treacherous,  and  full  of  enmity  against 
God.  The  law,  that  every  man  that  will  live  godly  in 
Christ  Jesus  must  suffer  persecution,  is  still  unrepealed  in 
this  fallen  earth.  Every  faithful  man  will  have  the  grace- 
tokens  of  the  cross  upon  his  inmost  soul.  By  temptation, 
by  wrestling  against  evil,  by  crucifixion  of  self,  by  wrongs 
and  snares  from  without,  by  sorrow  and  afflictions  from 
above,  every  brother  of  the  First-born  in  the  family  of  man 
will  bear  His  likeness,  and  be  perfected  by  the  keen  edge 
of  pain.  By  this  long-drawn  and  weary  strife,  our  patience, 
meekness,  faith,  perseverance,  boldness,  and  loyalty  to 
Christ,  are  ever  tried  ;  and  by  trial  made  perfect. 

And  this  mysterious  work,  as  it  has  an  aspect  of  love 
towards  the  saints,  so  it  has  an  aspect  of  long-suffering 
towards  sinners.  Tt  is  thus  that  God  gives  them  a  full 
season  for  repentance.  Christ  delays  His  return,  and 
tarries  in  the  heavens ;  and  scoffers  have  asked.  Where 
is  the   promise  of  His   coming?     "But  the   Lord   is   not 


THE  WAITING  OF  [Serm. 

slack  concerning  His  promise,  as  some  men  count  slack 
ness  ;  but  is  long-suffering  to  us-ward,  not  willing  that  any 
should  perish,  but  that  all  should  come  to  repentance."  * 
He  lets  the  life  of  man  run  on  through  all  its  stages,  from 
childhood  to  old  age.  He  gives  all  things  for  our  salvation, 
warnings,  blessings,  chastisements,  sorrows,  sicknesses, 
words  of  fire,  and  sacraments  of  love ;  He  stays  His 
hand,  and  leaves  the  sinner  without  excuse,  that  at  the 
winding  up  of  this  weary  life,  "  every  mouth  may  be 
stopped,  and  all  the  world  become  guilty  before  God." 
What  shall  men  say  at  that  day  ?  All  the  mysteries  of  truth 
and  grace  were  ever  near  them ;  they  lacked  neither 
knowledge  nor  strength.  They  had  a  long  life  chequered 
with  the  tokens  of  His  hand :  sharp  sicknesses,  sudden 
accidents,  desolating  sorrows,  slow  death-beds,  all  speaking 
clearly  and  piercingly  to  the  dull  ear  on  which  the  words 
of  grace  had  fallen  in  vain.  They  lacked  nothing  which 
could  awaken  the  soul  of  man.  The  whole  order  of 
mysteries  in  His  Church  and  in  His  providence  worked 
together,  interweaving  their  powers,  and  bringing  them  to 
bear,  as  one  manifold  divine  influence,  upon  the  hearts  of 
the  unawakened  ;  if  any  thing  were  still  lacking,  it  was 
that  they  lacked  the  will. 

Such  is  this  wonderful  work  of  unwearied  love.  And 
all  the  while  His  Church  is  crying  out,  "  How  long,  O 
Lord,  holy  and  true  ? "  the  saints  unseen  waiting  and 
longing  for  their  perfect  bliss  ;  the  saints  on  earth  crying, 
day  by  day,  "  Thy  kingdom  come  :  "  day  by  day,  from  all 
lands,  throughout  the  whole  Church,  this  cry  goes  up  into 
the  ears  of  the  Lord  of  Sabaoth  :  "  the  whole  creation 
groaneth  and  travaileth  in  pain  together : "  all  things 
would  hasten  the  coming  end  :  heaven  is  well  nigh  weary, 

*■  2  Pet.  iii.  9. 


XXIII.]  THE  INVISIBLE  CHURCH.  269 

and  earth  sick,  for  bearing  the  burden  of  sin  and  wrong  : 
and  yet  Christ  tarries.  We  must  rest  yet  "  for  a  little 
season  ; "  and  then,  so  soon  as  the  sinner's  day  is  done, 
and  the  saints  are  tried,  and  the  foreseen  number  full,  the 
end  shall  come  ;  and  lime  shall  be  no  longer. 

And  now,  from  all  this,  we  see  what  ought  to  be  the 
master-aim  of  our  lives :  that  is,  to  make  sure  of  our 
fellowship  in  that  mystical  number.  We  see  that  it  is  not 
enough  that  we  belong  to  the  one  visible  Church.  Many 
partake  of  the  visible  unity  who  in  the  invisible  have  no 
portion.  The  Church  is  like  a  sacrament,  having  both  its 
outward  and  inward  parts.  The  true  Church  has  both  a 
body  and  a  soul :  the  body  is  that  one,  uniform,  organized, 
universal  polity,  of  which  the  succession  of  the  apostles  is  the 
essential  first  condition  :  the  soul  is  that  inward  unity  of  ener- 
getic faith,  hope,  and  charity,  which  knits  all  saints,  from 
the  highest  to  the  lowest,  in  one  spiritual  family.  These 
are  the  fruits,  or  result,  of  the  visible  unity;  as  the  likeness 
of  Christ  is  the  effect  of  the  holy  sacraments  in  the  faithful 
receiver.  The  visible  unity  is  a  sacramental  means  to  the 
formation  of  this  fellowship  of  sanctity.  All  regenerate 
men  are  saints  in  capability,  but  these  are  saints  in  fact. 
The  former  may  be,  the  latter  are,  conformed  to  Christ's 
likeness.  The  difference  is  the  same  as  between  a  moral 
nature  and  a  moral  habit:  the  nature  may  be  passive,  or 
be  perverted ;  the  habit  must  be  developed  by  energy,  and 
sustained  by  the  powers  of  moral  life.  There  is  therefore 
no  difficulty  in  testing  ourselves.  Every  man  can  tell 
whether  his  life  is  energetically  pure  and  holy  or  not. 
With  the  saints  of  old,  martyrdom  was  the  test,  or  saint- 
liness  of  life,  by  which  they  bore  martyrdom  in  the  will, 
though  they  were  never  crowned  with  it  in  the  body. 
And  we,  too,  have  no  need  to  be  doublful  of  our  state. 


270  THE  WAITING  OP  [Serm, 

The  sure  sign  is  the  likeness  of  Christ  growing  in  our 
hearts,  waxing  ever  brighter  from  childhood,  in  boyhood, 
youth,  and  riper  years  ;  ever  shining  out  more  clearly  as 
He  draws  nearer.  This  is  His  own  countersign.  Plainly 
the  sinful,  the  slothful,  the  double-minded,  the  worldly, 
that  is,  all  who,  under  the  strong  assimilating  power  of  the 
world,  are  growing  into  its  likeness,  are  aliens  from  the 
soul  of  the  one  Church,  and  are  as  yet  severed  from  the 
mystical  number  which  He  is  gathering  out.  It  is  true 
that  we  cannot  draw  any  line  so  strongly  marked  as  to  cut 
off  with  absolute  and  visible  certainty  those  who  do,  and 
those  who  do  not,  belong  to  that  unseen  fellowship.  As 
there  is  twilight  between  noon  and  midnight,  so  are  there 
infinite  gradations  of  character :  and  yet  this  is  certain, 
that  no  man  that  is  not  either  freed  from  the  power  of  sin, 
or  repenting  of  his  sin-soiled  state,  has  any  warrant  to 
believe  himself  of  that  number.  Many,  indeed,  there  are 
of  most  imperfect  sanctit}^ ;  namely,  those  who  are  puffed 
up  with  vanity  and  ambition,  and  love  of  the  pomps  of  life, 
its  honor,  power,  high  bearing,  great  friendships,  and  the 
like  ;  and  likewise  those  who  are  opinionated  and  self- 
confident,  fond  of  controversy,  and  prone  to  a  controversial 
temper ;  or  again,  tinged  with  self-complacency,  and 
addicted  to  a  self-sparing,  soft,  relaxed  religion,  which 
clings  to  the  alluring,  but  shrinks  with  dislike  from  the 
severer  precepts  of  the  faith.  Now  all  these,  and  the 
infinite  shades  of  character  contained  in  them,  or  related 
to  them,  may  belong  to  the  unseen  fellowship  ;  but 
their  title  to  it  is  ambiguous,  and  their  end  doubtful. 
For  all  such  the  way  is,  not  to  strain  after  a  high-toned 
devotion,  till  they  have  laid  the  deep  basis  of  a  thorough 
repentance.  Their  chief  danger  is,  the  weakness  of  an 
unnatural  growth,  which  has  got  above  its  healthy  powers. 


XXIII.]  THE  INVISIBLE  CHURCH.  271 

The  imagination  and  the  intellect  have  simulated  the  forms 
of  faith  and  sanctity,  and  they  are  in  danger  of  persuading 
themselves  that  they  really  are  what  they  are  so  well  able 
to  delineate.  Repentance  is  the  threshold  of  the  invisible 
sanctuary  where  the  saints  are  gathering,  and  here  they 
must  fall  down  before  they  think  to  enter.  None  but  they 
that  have  either  a  pure  or  a  broken  heart  shall  see  God. 

Be  careful,  therefore,  above  all  things,  to  commit  your- 
selves to  the  great  movement  of  God's  providence  in  His 
Church,  by  which  He  is  drawing  His  faithful  within  the 
curtains  of  His  pavilion.  Be  not  content  to  stand  without, 
albeit  in  the  precinct  of  the  visible  Church  :  there  are  more 
that  gaze  upon  the  outward  ritual  in  which  the  earthly 
Church  pays  homage  to  her  Lord,  than  enter  into  its  mind 
and  mystery.  Pray  Him  to  give  you  the  white  robes  of 
sanctity  and  fellowship  with  the  saints  unseen,  that  you 
may  wait  in  patience,  lying  under  the  altar,  dead  with 
Christ.  Let  daily  worship,  and  the  ever-returning  sacrifice 
of  the  holy  eucharist,  be  your  life  and  food.  We  are  fallen 
on  an  evil  age ;  an  age  of  bitterness  and  wrong,  and  deaf 
inexorable  slander,  accusation,  estrangement,  and  strife. 
Martyrdom  and  all  its  high  and  stirring  fears,  is  gone,  and 
the  wearisome  harassing  of  a  petty  warfare  has  fastened  on 
the  Church.  We  are  fallen  on  an  age  in  which  the  chief 
zeal  for  truth  is,  that  men  have  not  so  absolutely  ceased  to 
care  for  it,  as  to  keep  from  quarrelling  about  it.  Almost 
are  we  tempted  to  cry  out.  Would  that  a  season  of  stern 
trial  might  sift  the  Church  of  all  shallow,  petulant,  self- 
loving,  boastful  men,  that  the  true  and  loyal  hearts  might 
be  made  manifest,  and,  by  one  decisive  trial,  short  as  it  is 
sharp,  win  their  crown  of  life.  But  not  so;  God  has  willed 
otherwise.  We  must  wait,  and  not  be  weary ;  we  must 
bear  all  the  fretfulness  and  provocation  of  earthly  tempers 


272  THE  WAITING  OF  [Serm. 

and  false  tongues  for  a  little  season.  Meanwhile,  the  per- 
petual worship  of  our  unseen  Master,  and  the  communion 
of  hidden  saints,  and  the  fellowship  of  the  invisible  Church, 
must  be  our  strength  and  stay. 

And  see,  also,  how  broad  a  light  this  throws  on  our 
duties  towards  all  around  us.  The  first  debt  we  owe  them 
is,  to  endeavour  by  all  means  to  draw  them  into  the  same 
blessed  fellowship.  We  owe  this  to  every  member  of 
Christ's  visible  Church,  but,  above  all,  to  such  as  are  bound 
to  us  by  ties  of  an  especial  nearness,  whether  by  blood  or 
by  the  benediction  of  the  Church.  There  is  no  other  lasting 
basis  of  friendship  or  affection  but  this  only,  that  our  spirits 
be  knit  in  the  unseen  unity  of  the  saints.  All  else  is  mere 
falsehood.  *'  Two  men  shall  be  working  in  the  field  ;  the 
one  shall  be  taken,  and  the  other  left : "  so  shall  all  fellow- 
ships be  rent  asunder  but  those  that  meet  in  God.  In  the 
choice  of  friends,  in  all  great  changes  and  casts  in  life,  let 
this  be  your  rule.  Such  is  the  mysterious  action  and  re- 
action of  moral  beings  on  each  other,  that  no  one  can  say 
what  may  be  the  end  of  an  ill-chosen  fellowship.  "  What 
knowest  thou,  O  wife,  whether  thou  shalt  save  thy  husband? 
or  how  knowest  thou,  O  man,  whether  thou  shalt  save  thy 
wife?"*  On  one  side  or  the  other  the  power  of  assimilation 
must  prevail.  How  often  has  the  earthlier  mind  drawn 
away  a  high  and  ripening  spirit  from  the  fellowship  of 
saints !  And  O  fearful  fall  which  draws  others  in  its  ruin  ! 
Watch,  then,  and  pray,  that  you  may  not  only  enter  into 
the  mystical  sanctuar}"  of  saints,  and  go  no  more  out,  but 
gather  in  also  all  your  loved  ones,  that  there  be  no  parting 
any  more.  Though  God  tarries,  yet  all  things  hasten  on. 
Day  by  day  we  are  nearer  our  last  change.  The  unseen 
Church  is  crying,  "How  long?"    the  Church  in  warfare 

*  1  Cor.  vii.  16. 


XXIII.]  THE  INVISIBLE  CHURCH.  273 

ceases  not  continually  to  pray  for  the  consummation  of  the 
elect.  And  albeit  so  short,  yet  this  fleeting  life  to  them  is 
as  a  long  and  lingering  night,  which  holds  off  a  blessed 
morrow.  Though  the  time  be  not  yet,  nevertheless  there 
are  tokens  of  changes  coming  on  the  earth.  The  shadows 
are  lengthening  out,  and  the  day  of  its  toilsome  life  is  well 
nigh  spent.  Oh,  when  He  comes,  and  the  dead  are  judged, 
and  the  names  of  those  that  have  overcome,  which  are 
written  in  the  Lamb's  book  of  life,  are  read  one  by  one  in 
our  ears,  how  shall  our  hearts  thrill  to  bursting,  while  we 
hear  prophets,  apostles,  martyrs,  and  saints,  bid  *'  come  up 
hither;"  and  all  our  loved  ones,  a  friend,  a  sister,  a  husband, 
each  in  turn  called  out,  and  clad  in  white  robes  for  the 
marriage  feast!  What  if  we  should  be  left  out  at  last? 
What  if  our  name  be  "  not  found  written  in  the  book  of 
life?"*  "Enter  not  into  judgment  with  Thy  servant,  O 
Lord ;  for  in  Thy  sight  shall  no  man  living  be  justified." 

•  Key.  XX.  15. 


VOL.  I.-18. 


SERMON   XXIV 


» 


THE  WAITING  OF  THE  VISIBLE  CHUECH. 


1  Cor.  vii.  29,  30,  31, 
"  This  I  say,  brethren,  the  time  is  short :  it  remaineth,  that  both  they 
that  have  wives  be  as  though  they  had  none ;  and  they  that  weep, 
as  though  they  wept  not ;  and  they  that  rejoice,  as  though  tliey 
rejoiced  not ;  and  they  that  buy,  as  though  they  possessed  not ;  and 
they  that  use  this  world,  as  not  abusing  it :  for  the  fashion  of  this 
world  passetli  away." 

After  St.  Paul  had  given  to  the  Church  in  Corinth  many 
counsels  of  wisdom  and  perfection,  he  brings  all  his  teaching 
to  this  end  :  "  Brethren,  the  time  is  short."  Life  is  fleeting, 
and  Christ  is  coming.  In  whatsoever  state  ye  be,  "the 
Lord  is  at  hand."  The  apostles  had  been  taught,  by  the 
parables  of  their  Master,  to  look  for  Him  at  any  time,  as 
servants  for  their  lord,  and  virgins  for  the  bridegroom. 
The  angels  of  His  Father,  who  had  received  Him  with 
glory  into  heaven,  had  bid  them  look  for  His  coming  even 
as  He  went  away.  And  therefore  they  were  for  ever 
saying,  "  We  shall  not  all  sleep  ;"  "  We  which  are  alive, 
and  remain  unto  the  coming  of  the  Lord,  shall  not  prevent 


Serh.  XXIV.]  THE  VISIBLE  CHURCH.  275 

those  that  are  asleep  ;  for  the  dead  in  Christ  shall  rise  first ; 
then  we  which  are  alive  and  remain  shall  be  caught  up 
together  with  them  in  the  clouds,  to  meet  the  Lord  in  the 
air."  *  Again,  "  The  night  is  far  spent,  the  day  is  at 
hand."  t  "  The  end  of  all  things  is  at  hand  ;  be  ye  there- 
fore sober,  and  watch  unto  prayer."  |  And  this  habitual 
expectation  chastened  and  subdued  their  hearts  with  awe 
and  gladness ;  with  a  faith  full  of  joy,  and  yet  of  fear. 
Their  Lord  was  taken  from  them ;  but  He  was  coming 
again  ;  and  the  Church  of  Christ  was  as  a  family  that  had 
received  one  great  visitation,  and  is  waiting  for  another. 
At  such  a  time,  all  thoughts  are  absorbed  into  one  ;  all 
feelings,  all  cares,  all  forecastings  ;  and  that  one  thought 
and  feeling  is  too  great  for  words.  All  levity  is  repressed  ; 
all  common  and  unnecessary  things  suspended:  only  ne- 
cessary duties  are  tolerable,  and  they  are  done  in  an 
uncommon  way.  There  is  a  check  upon  the  mind,  and  a 
limit  to  all  its  movements.  And  men  go  about  the  business 
of  life  with  a  calm  and  sedate  carriage,  and  meet  each  other 
with  graver  looks  ;  for  the  one  habitual  master-thought  of 
their  hearts  is,  the  greatness  and  nearness  of  God. 

And  so  it  was  that  the  Christians  of  early  days  did  all 
things  in  the  Lord  :  their  buying  and  selling,  marrying  and 
giving  in  marriage,  their  weepings  and  rejoicings,  were  all 
measured,  and  checked,  and  subdued  by  the  remembrance 
that  "the  time  is  short."  The}'  so  lived  as  they  would 
desire  to  be  found  by  Him  at  His  coming.  There  was  a 
twofold  process  ever  going  on  within  them, — the  energy  of 
daily  life,  and  the  fixed  contemplation  of  Christ's  advent. 
Nevertheless  "  they  were  not  slothful  in  business,"  but 
"fervent  in  spirit;"  and  for  this  reason,  because  they 
were  "  serving  the  Lord  : "    and  yet  there  was  in  them  a 

«  1  Thess.  iv.   15-17.  t  Rom.  xiii.  12.  t  1  St.  Pet.  iv.  7. 


276  THE  WAITING  OF  [Serm. 

thought  which  was  the  centre  of  all  their  actings,  and  gave 
a  steadiness  and  balance  to  all  their  daily  life.  Tiie  ever- 
present  consciousness  of  their  Master's  nearness  was  as 
some  deep  undertone  which  runs  through  a  strain  of  music, 
and  gives  it  a  staid  and  solemn  spirit. 

But  if  a  man  should  enter  the  same  household  once  in 
the  hour  of  its  first  visitation,  and  again  after  a  few  years  or 
months  are  gone,  how  would  he  find  it  changed !  He 
would  find  it,  as  men  say,  calmed  down,  and  grown  more 
natural;  become  itself  again,  that  is,  in  truth,  become 
common-place,  having  reverted,  like  a  spring  released  from 
some  antagonist  pressure.  The  truth  is,  they  that  were  so 
visited  were,  for  a  time,  above  and  better  than  themselves ; 
and  while  their  trial  lasted,  they  were  sustained  on  a  higher 
level ;  but  now  they  are  only  as  they  were  before ;  as  a 
man  makes  an  effort,  or  strains  his  eyesight  for  a  moment, 
and  then  relaxes  again.  For  all  things  draw  us  back  to 
our  former  habits  :  we  are  soon  recast  into  old  shapes, 
and  led  back  into  old  ways.  For  a  time,  while  the 
shadow  of  God's  hand  was  upon  our  heads,  we  resisted 
the  power  and  attraction  of  the  world  ;  but  what  we  were 
was  only  a  condition,  not  a  character.  It  was  not  the  man, 
but  his  circumstances,  and  his  outward  state,  that  were 
changed ;  as  a  person  may  change  his  vesture,  or  his 
countenance,  by  choice  or  sympathy,  or  any  accidental 
cause.  Day  by  day  he  becomes  bolder  and  more  self- 
possessed,  more  intent  and  concentrated  upon  things  below 
God  and  heaven :  every  object  around  him  grows  larger 
and  distincter,  and  the  visible  light  in  which  be  once  saw 
its  just  proportions  fades  from  his  sight ;  and  the  thought 
of  God  which  dwelt  within  him  goes  up,  like  the  glory  in 
the  prophet's  vision,*  from  the  threshold  of  the  house,  as  if 

*  Ezek.  X,  4. 


XXIII.]  THE  VISIBLE  CHURCH.  277 

to  depart  from  it.  All  men  have  made  trial  of  this  at  some 
time,  and  know  that  the  effect  of  a  visitation  is  strangely 
evanescent.  The  checked  character  comes  out  once  more, 
and  each  man  is  his  own  unrestrained  self  again :  and  he 
throws  himself  wholly  into  his  trade  or  his  business,  into 
his  grief  or  his  joy,  into  the  long-drawn  aims  of  his 
ambition,  or  the  listless  languor  of  his  worldly  hfe.  In 
this  and  for  this  he  lives.  Things  near  at  hand  again 
bind  round  and  overgrow  his  heart,  and  make  it  a  part  of 
themselves.  He  has  no  other  energy  of  hope  or  fear ;  he 
neither  looks  nor  waits  for  any  thing  beyond.  The  future 
has  no  power  over  him.  It  is  too  dim,  too  far  off,  and  too 
unsubstantial,  to  counterpoise  the  gain  of  to-day,  or  the 
pleasure  of  to-morrow. 

And  so,  after  a  season  of  higher  thoughts,  the  whole 
tone  of  the  mind  is  let  down  and  weakened ;  and  a  second 
visitation  would  come  with  the  suddenness  of  the  first,  and 
find  us  as  before.  Such  has  been,  and  such  still  is,  the 
state  of  Christ's  Church  and  household.  It  has  left  off  to 
watch  for  the  signs  of  His  coming.  One  by  one  His 
servants  have  fallen  asleep,  while  the  Lord  seemed  to 
linger.  Here  and  there,  indeed,  in  the  great  multitude 
of  churches  and  Christians,  some  have  waited  as  men  that 
had  nothing  to  do  in  the  world  but  to  prepare  for  His 
appearing,  weeping  as  though  they  wept  not,  and  rejoicing 
as  though  they  rejoiced  not,  as  if  the  earth  were  floating 
under  their  feet,  and  the  "white  cloud"*  ready  to  appear 
in  heaven.  But  the  mass  of  Christians  have  been  otherwise 
minded.  The  visible  body  has  slumbered  ;  and  from  that 
day  began  a  decline  of  the  high  and  devoted  temper  of 
faith;  men  left  their  first  love:  and  one  by  one  fell  away 
from  the  "  breaking  of  bread,"  in  which  we  show  forth  the 

»  Rev.  xiv.  14. 


278  THE  WAITING  OF  [Serm. 

Lord's  death  till  He  come.  While  men  watched  for  Him, 
this  token  was  in  some  churches  offered  daily,  in  all 
weekly  ;  but  they  began  to  forsake  their  testimony  :  and 
with  this  decline  of  diligent  waiting  upon  God,  declined 
also  the  ever-ready  spirit  of  a  Christian  life.  The  power 
of  the  apostolic  example  seemed  to  have  spent  itself  in 
the  first  generations,  and  men  grew  up  into  an  earthly, 
commonplace  habit  of  life.  Then  came  debate  and  strife 
of  words,  vain  doctrines  spun  out  by  the  subtil,  and  true 
doctrines  gainsayed  by  the  unbelieving :  and  the  simple 
faith  of  Christ  crucified,  in  which  "  the  wayfaring  man, 
though  a  fool,  shall  not  err,"  has  been  overlaid  by  snares 
of  words,  and  beset  by  learned  fancies ;  and  the  poor  of 
Christ  have  been  bewildered  by  their  very  teachers,  and 
Satan  beguiled  them  both ;  and  the  Church,  which  left  off 
to  dwell  on  the  one  thing  needful,  has  doated  on  a  multi- 
tude of  fables.  Satan  laid  snares  in  every  doctrine  and  in 
every  mystery  :  the  memory  of  the  saints,  the  sleep  of  the 
faithful  dead,  the  food  of  life,  and  the  altar  of  God,  became 
his  lurking  places.  The  Church,  against  which  he  could 
not  prevail,  he  used  as  an  ambush. 

And  under  this  temptation,  even  the  self-denying  fainted ; 
and  a  love  of  worldly  ease,  and  pomp,  and  wealth,  filled 
the  disciples  of  the  fishermen  of  Galilee  ;  and  they  grew 
weary  of  waiting  for  their  Master's  kingdom,  and  would 
fain  bring  it  about  before  its  time  by  a  cunning  of  their  own. 
And  in  His  name  they  claimed  dominion,  and  subdued 
kingdoms,  and  wrought  unrighteousness,  and  gave  away 
the  thrones  of  kings,  and  taught  the  world  rebellion ;  and 
Christendom  split  asunder  in  the  midst ;  and  the  heirs  of 
the  blessing  cursed  each  other  from  the  seats  of  Christ. 
Wars  broke  out  between  Churches  ;  and  they  that  should 
have   untaught  men  the  arts  of  war  armed  nation  against 


XXIV.]  THE  VISIBLE  CHURCH.  279 

nation  ;  and  Christian  kings  made  the  sacred  cross  a  sign 
of  bloodshed,  and  filled  the  world  with  tumult,  and  their 
own  kingdoms  with  confusion.  And  in  all  this  din  of  the 
great  and  mighty,  the  still  small  voice  of  truth  was  drowned, 
or  pent  up  into  cloisters  ;  and  private  men  were  overcome 
with  a  devoted,  immoderate  love  of  worldly  things,  and 
began  to  plant  and  build  ;  and  the  days  of  Noe  came  back 
again,  which  is  the  forerunning  sign  of  the  last  times. 
Even  the  best  grew  heavy  and  tame,  and  left  little  or  no 
stamp  of  God  upon  the  world ;  but  drank  of  its  spirit,  and 
loitered  securely  in  its  ways.  They  lost  the  vividness  of 
faith,  and  learned  an  easy  acquiescence  in  a  lower  standard, 
and  were  content  to  move  along  upon  a  lower  level ;  though 
in  the  main  Christian,  they  were  not  heavenly  but  earthly 
minded.  Like  Lot,  they  lifted  up  their  eyes,  and  saw  the 
plain  '*  fruitful  and  well-watered  ; "  and  first  pitched  their 
tent,  and  then  built  them  an  abode. 

Such  is  now  the  every-day  Christianity  which  we  have 
inherited,  and  such  our  inconsistent  state.  Though  we  are 
ever  saying,  "  He  shall  come  again  in  glory  to  judge  both 
the  quick  and  the  dead ;"  though  we  show  forth  the  Lord's 
death  in  the  consecrated  bread  and  wine ;  yet  men  are 
swallowed  up  in  this  mortal  life.  Fathers  are  mere  fathers; 
husbands  mere  husbands  ;  mourners  are  overwhelmed  with 
grief;  they  that  rejoice  are  excessive  in  their  gladness. 
The  man  of  science  has  few  thoughts  for  a  world  unseen ; 
the  man  of  business  no  leisure ;  the  calculator  lives  in  his 
reckonings,  the  buyer  in  his  bargain ;  the  seller  has  no  care 
beyond  his  price  ;  the  statesman  is  centred  in  his  schemes, 
and  his  whole  being  terminates  in  his  line  of  policy.  Most 
men  are  just  what  they  are  in  this  life;  and  never  rise 
above  it,  nor  look  out  beyond  it.  No  purpose  of  their  heart 
is  controlled   and  checked  by  the  thought  of  the   day  of 


280  THE  WAITING  OF  [Serm 

Christ.  They  know  that  it  must  come;  and  deceive  them- 
selves into  thinking  that  they  are  swayed  by  the  expectation; 
but  they  neither  do  nor  leave  undone  any  thing  that  they 
would  not  do  or  leave  undone  though  He  should  never  come 
again.  And  even  more  thoughtful  men  silently  prescribe  a 
course  for  the  providence  of  God  ;  for  where  is  there  one 
who  so  feels  himself  uncertain  of  what  shall  be,  as  to  say 
with  St.  Paul,  "we  shall  not  all  sleep?"  Men  speak  as 
if  the  apostle  were  mistaken,  and  themselves  better  taught. 
We  all  expect  to  live,  and  then  in  due  time  to  die ;  and 
that  Israel  must  be  first  grafted  into  Christ,  and  His  kingdom 
be  made  universal,  that  there  is  much  to  be  done  before 
He  can  come  again;  and  that  whosoever  shall  be  quick  on 
earth  at  His  appearing,  yet  surely  we  shall  not.  Both  they 
that  slight  the  prophecies  of  Christ,  and  they  that  over- 
wisely  expound  them,  alike  fall  into  the  same  snare ;  they 
would  make  some  reckoning  about  that  day  and  hour,  of 
which  no  man  knoweth — not  even  God's  angels — but  the 
Father  only.  Surely  it  is  as  much  a  fault  to  say.  It  cannot 
be  yet ;  as  to  sa}^  It  shall  be  at  such  a  time.  Who  can 
say  when  it  shall  be  ?  Who  dares  to  tell  us  when  it  shall 
not  be?  Uncertainty  is  the  very  condition  of  waiting,  and 
the  spur  of  expectation.  All  we  know  is,  that  Christ  has 
not  told  us  when  He  will  come  ;  but  He  has  said,  "  Be  ye 
also  ready ;  for  in  such  an  hour  as  ye  think  not,  the  Son  of 
Man  Cometh." 

Let  us,  then,  draw  some  rules  from  what  has  been  said, 
by  which  to  bring  this  truth  1o  bear  on  our  own  conduct. 

1.  First,  let  us  learn  not  to  go  out  of  our  lot  and  char- 
acter in  life,  but  to  live  above  it.  What  and  where  we 
are,  is  God's  appointment.  It  is  He  who  makes  us  to  joy 
or  weep,  to  have  or  to  lose.  We  have  a  work  to  do  for 
Him ;  and  it  is  just  that  work  which  lies  before  us  in  our 


XXIV.]  THE  VISIBLE  CHURCH.  281 

daily  life.  It  is  only  the  restless  impatience  of  self-will 
that  drives  a  man  to  throw  himself  into  new  and  strange 
positions,  other  than  God  has  ordered.  There  is  no  state 
or  office  (not  being  in  itself  sinful)  in  all  the  complex  bear- 
ings of  a  Christian  commonwealth,  which  may  not,  by  the 
spirit  of  obedience,  be  sanctified  to  God ;  and  every  state 
has  a  becoming  character,  which  we  are  bidden  to  realise 
in  ourselves.  But  this  character  must  begin  and  end  in 
God :  must  take  its  rise  in  His  will,  and  terminate  in  His 
glory.  It  is  not  simply  by  weeping  or  rejoicing,  buying  or 
selling,  abounding  or  suffering  want,  that  we  are  what  we 
are ;  but  by  doing  and  suffering  all  things  as  He  would 
have  us  to  do  and,  suffer  them.  To  affect  contempt  for  all 
these  natural  states  and  actions  of  life,  with  the  plea  that 
we  live  for  God,  is  mere  affectation  and  contempt  of  God's 
own  ordinance  ;  to  live  without  habitual  thought  of  God, 
and  of  the  day  of  Christ's  appearing,  with  the  plea  that  we 
are  controlled  by  the  outward  accidents  of  life,  is  mere  self- 
deceit,  and  abandonment  of  God  Himself.  And  yet  to 
these  two  extreme  faults  almost  all  minds  are  continually 
tending :  either  to  what  is  singular  and  ostentatious  in 
religion,  so  ending  in  excitement,  and  often  in  declension ; 
or  to  v^'hat  is  worldly  and  sullen,  and  from  a  neglect  of 
religion,  ending  in  slighting  and  despising  it. 

2.  To  check  these  two  extremes,  then,  let  us  strive  to 
live  as  we  would  desire  to  be  found  by  Him  at  His  coming. 

Who  can  bear  the  thought  of  being  taken  unawares  in 
the  madness  of  a  sinful  life,  in  secret  vice,  or  in  undisguised 
folly  ;  or  with  a  temper  unrestrained,  or  puffed  up  with 
self-esteem,  or  wavering  at  every  gust  of  fashion,  or  fettered 
by  false  customs,  or  over-careful  about  money,  or  fretful 
in  a  low  estate,  or  murmuring  in  affliction,  or  dreaming 
away  this  short  life  in  the  unrealities  of  empty  self-indul- 


282  THE  WAITING  OF  [Serm. 

gence,  or  forgetful  of  God  amidst  the  abundance  of  His 
chiefest  blessings?  Let  us  strive,  then,  to  put  off  these 
things  with  a  steady  boldness,  and,  if  need  be,  with  a 
severe  self-restraint.  The  trader,  or  the  man  of  letters,  or 
of  a  learned  profession,  or  of  a  full  and  easy  habit  of  life — 
each  must  needs  look  into  his  own  state.  There  is  a  char- 
acteristic temptation  which  besets  every  state — so  subtil  and 
insensible,  that  it  is  like  the  ill-habits  of  gait  and  manner, 
which,  being  formed  unconsciously,  become  hardly  distin- 
guishable from  our  natural  action,  and  yet  produce  some 
morbid  effects  at  last.  Who  is  there  that  would  not  dread 
to  be  found  at  that  day  with  a  buried  talent  and  an  un- 
trimmed  lamp;  with  a  sleepy  conscience,  or  a  shallow 
repentance,  or  a  half-converted  heart?  Alas  for  the  half- 
penitent,  half-changed  man,  almost  a  Christian,  and  almost 
saved  !  It  must  not  be  so  with  us.  At  any  cost,  we  must 
win  eternal  life.  It  is  by  living  in  our  plain  path  of  duty, 
but  with  an  habitual  remembrance  of  His  coming;  by 
using  the  world  as  we  use  our  daily  food,  not  so  much  from 
choice  as  from  necessity,  and  yet  with  no  unthankful  sul- 
lenness,  but  with  gladness  and  singleness  of  heart ;  by  being 
ever  ready,  both  for  the  duties  of  the  day,  and  for  the 
coming  hour  of  judgment — by  this  twofold  discipline  of  self 
a  true  Christian  is  so  prepared,  that  the  day  of  Christ  can 
neither  come  too  late  nor  too  soon  for  him. 

3.  Surely,  then,  we  have  need  to  lose  no  time ;  for 
"  the  time  is  short."  If  we  dare  not  say,  the  time  is  not 
yet,  how  dare  we  live  as  if  that  were  true  which  we  dare 
not  my?  We  shall  lose  nothing  by  being  ever  ready,  and 
by  living — if  I  may  so  speak,  as  men  say  of  things  they 
cannot  calculate  or  control — on  the  chance.  In  the  concerns 
of  this  life,  the  lightest  overpoise  of  probability  determines 
our  strongest  resolutions.    Who  would  tarry  under  a  loosened 


XXIII.]  THE  VISIBLE  CHURCH.  283 

arch  ?  who  would  go  upon  a  doubtful  bridge  ?  nay,  even 
though  the  chances  were  in  favor  of  escaping?  The  lightest 
probability  would  fix  our  resolve  as  surely  as  the  greatest. 
And  yet  the  certain  warning,  if  we  could  have  it,  that  we 
should  die  this  day  ten  years,  would  move  us  more  deeply 
than  the  uncertain  chance  whether  we  shall  not  die  to-night. 
Brethren,  we  have  a  large  slew  ,iid>hip  lo  account  for — a 
tale  of  many  years,  with  all  the  manifold  workings  of 
thought  and  life :  our  lot,  our  character,  and  every  particular 
of  what  we  are;  all  our  opportunities,  and  all  the  gifts  of 
God — all  this  reckoning  must  be  rendered  at  His  coming. 
And  we  have  a  sharp  warfare  to  maintain  against  ourselves, 
against  the  strong  will  that  wrestles  with  our  conscience : 
we  have  a  trying  struggle  to  endure,  that  we  may  enter  in 
at  the  narrow  gate.  And  the  time  for  this  great  mastery  is 
wearing  away,  and  the  day  of  our  probation  is  well  nigh 
spent.  To  a  man  that  looks  for  Christ's  coming,  how 
utterly  worthless  are  all  things  that  can  perish  !  How 
awful  is  that  which  is  alone  imperishable !  AH  things 
about  us  shall  be  abolished.  The  solid  earth  shall  melt, 
and  the  canopy  of  heaven  shall  be  rolled  away :  but  there 
is  one  thing  which  cannot  die  :  one  thing  which  will  cleave 
and  cling  to  us  for  ever;  which  we  brought  with  us  into 
the  world ;  which,  whether  we  will  or  no,  we  must  carry 
out;  which,  for  good  or  for  evil,  haunts  every  man  at  all 
times,  abroad  and  at  home,  in  the  busy  throng  of  men,  or 
in  the  dead  stillness  of  solitude ;  which  shall  be  with  us  in 
the  hour  of  death,  and  stand  by  us  in  the  day  of  judgment ; 
— each  man's  own  imperishable  self;  the  immortal  spirit 
of  life,  which,  with  all  its  capacities  of  good  or  ill,  in  the 
beginning  came  from  God,  and,  with  the  stamp  it  has  here 
taken,  must  return  to  God  again.* 

*  Eccles.  xii.  7. 


284  WAITING  OF  THE  VISIBLE  CHURCH.      [Serm.  XXIV. 

Therefore,  brethren,  make  sure  your  standing  in  His 
sight,  and  all  things  shall  fall  into  their  place  ;  all  parts  of 
a  Christian's  life  are  in  harmony, — time  with  eternity  j 
his  own  soul  with  God.  You  will  not  joy  the  less,  nor 
weep  the  more ;  the  happiness  of  your  home  will  not  be 
clouded,  nor  the  burden  of  your  sorrow  be  freighted  with 
a  heavier  load.  No  ;  to  the  true  Christian  the  cares  of  life 
shall  be  an  easy,  tolerable  yoke,  and  all  the  joys  of  his 
heart  shall  be  deeper  and  more  lasting.  If  we  take  all 
things  as  from  God,  and  behold  all  things  as  in  the  light  of 
the  brightness  of  His  coming,  all  shall  be  well.  In  a  little 
while  all  will  be  unravelled,  and  the  snares  and  bonds  of 
life  be  broken,  and  we  shall  be  where  no  man  can  be 
entangled,  or  offend,  or  fall  any  more.  A  little  while,  and 
the  veil  which  hangs  between  heaven  and  earth  shall  be  rent 
in  twain  from  the  top  to  the  bottom  ;  and  all  that  you  have 
here  held  of  God  and  for  God  you  shall  carry  with  you  into 
the  holy  place ;  and  all  that  is  gone  before  you  shall  be 
found  perfect,  at  the  feet  of  our  great  High  Priest,  who 
standeth  before  the  eternal  throne. 


SERMON  XXV. 


THE  KESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY. 


St.  Luke  xxiv.  39. 
"Behold  my  hands  and  my  feet,  that  it  is  I  myself:  handle  me,  and 
see ;  for  a  spirit  hath  not  flesh  and  bones,  as  ye  see  me  have." 

While  the  apostles  and  the  two  disciples  who  had  returned 
from  Emmaus  were  speaking  together  of  the  appearing  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  He  came  and  stood  in  the  midst. 
They  were  "  affrighted,  and  supposed  that  they  had  seen 
a  spirit.  And  He  said  unto  them,  Why  are  ye  troubled  ? 
and  why  do  thoughts  arise  in  your  hearts  ?  Behold  my 
hands  and  my  feet,  that  it  is  I  myself:  handle  me,  and 
see  ;  for  a  spirit  hath  not  flesh  and  bones,  as  ye  .see  me 
have."  He  assured  them  that  He  was  the  same  Lord 
with  whom  they  had  so  long  conversed  ;  that  He  was  no 
bodiless  spirit,  but  the  same  man  Jesus  Christ. 

From  this  we  see  that  the  very  body  which  He  took  of 
the  blessed  Virgin,  in  which  He  "increased  in  wisdom 
and  in  stature,"  which  was  also  nailed  upon  the  cross, 
was   likewise  raised   from  the  dead.     It  was  not  another 


286  THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY.  [Serm. 

bod}'^  like  it,  nor  a  mere  appearance  of  His  incarnate  form; 
but  the  very  same  substantial  and  palpable  frame  which 
they  were  bidden  to  handle  and  see,  in  which  He  did  "  eat 
and  drink  "  with  them  "  after  He  rose  from  the  dead."  It 
was  a  body  capable  of  all  the  energies  of  life,  susceptible 
of  all  the  perfect  affections  of  our  manhood,  but  impassible 
and  deathless  :  for  it  was  no  longer  a  mortal  body,  but  an 
immortal ;  and  yet  it  was  a  body  still :  as  the  "  natural," 
or  animal  body,  of  which  St.  Paul  speaks,  is  a  true  body, 
not  a  disembodied  life,  so  the  "  spiritual  body"  is  a  body, 
not  a  disembodied  spirit.  Therefore  he  says,  "  It  is  sown 
a  natural  body ;  it  is  raised  a  spiritual  body  :  there  is  a 
natural  body,  and  there  is  a  spiritual  body."*  Either 
way,  both  before  and  after  the  resurrection,  it  is  a  true 
body.  So  here  it  was  the  same  in  all  its  identity  ;  only  a 
change  had  passed  upon  it :  death  had  "  no  more  dominion 
over"  it:  "Christ  being  raised  from  the  dead  dieth  no 
more."  His  manhood  was  thenceforward  under  the  powers 
of  "  the  spirit  of  life  ; "  and  in  that  human  form  He  passed 
the  closed  df)ors,  vanished  out  of  the  sight  of  Cleopas,  and 
aftervv^ards  ascended  into  heaven. 

Now  from  this  we  may  learn,  in  some  measure,  what 
shall  be  the  resurrection  of  the  flesh.  We  are  told  plainly, 
that  it  shall  be  the  very  same  body  we  now  dwell  in,  once 
more  reorganised  ;  purged  of  its  earthly  taint,  and  raised 
to  the  conditions  of  a  spiritual  life.  To  all  questionings 
about  the  manner  of  this  mystery,  St.  Paui  answers, 
"  Thou  fool,  that  which  thou  sowest  is  not  quickened, 
except  it  die  ;  and  that  which  thou  sowest,  thou  sowest 
not  that  body  that  shall  be,  but  bare  grain  :  it  may  chance 
of  wheat,  or  of  some  other  grain  :  but  God  giveth  it  a  body 
as  it  hath  pleased  Him,  and  to  every  seed  his  own  body."  f 

*■  1  Cor.  XV.  44.  1 1  Cor.  xv.  36-38 


XXV.]      THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY.         287 

St.  Paul  does  not  more  intend  to  silence  a  disputatious 
objector  by  a  natural  mystery,  than  to  assert  that  the  great 
laws  of  the  natural  world  have  their  counterpart  in  the 
spiritual;  that  our  dissolution  is  in  order  to  our  resurrec- 
tion ;  and  that  the  body  which  is  buried  is  the  seed  and 
principle  of  the  body  which  shall  be  raised.  The  ear  of 
corn  is  not  more  contained  in  the  seed  than  the  spiritual 
body  in  the  natural :  in  both  there  is  identity  of  being,  and 
development  from  weak  beginnings  to  more  perfect  forms 
of  life.  It  is  therefore  as  plainly  and  as  strictly  true  to 
say,  that  this  very  body  shall  rise  again,  as  that  this  very 
seed  shall  spring  into  an  ear  ;  and  that  the  glorified  flesh 
of  the  saints  is  the  very  same  they  bore  in  suffering  and 
death,  as  that  the  harvest  of  autumn  is  the  very  seed  of 
spring.  Of  the  mysterious  changes  and  revolutions  which 
fill  up  the  interval  between  these  two  conditions  of  being, 
we  know  noihing;  but  there  is  a  line  of  identity  so  running 
from  each  into  the  other  as  to  make  both  one.  Such,  then, 
is  the  resurrection  of  the  flesh. 

There  are  some  truths  flowing  from  this  doctrine,  which 
we  will  now  go  on  to  consider. 

1.  We  may  learn,  first,  that  the  resurrection  will  be  the 
restoration  of  the  whole  man,  in  spirit,  and  soul,  and  body; 
a  restoration  of  all  in  which  consists  the  integrity  of  our 
nature  and  the  identity  of  our  person.  And  this  is  emphat- 
ically the  hope  of  the  gospel.  The  light  of  nature  could 
not  show  this  mystery.  The  heathen  reached  only  to  the 
immortality  of  the  soul ;  and  even  that  they  saw  but  dimly, 
and  often  doubted.  The  sting  of  guilt,  and  the  foreboding 
of  conscience;  the  sense  that  the  scheme  of  justice  in  this 
visible  world  is  imperfect;  and  the  instinct  which  feels  after 
a  retribution  yet  to  come, — gave  them  some  momentary 
insights  into  the  world  beyond  the  grave.     They  believed 


288  THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY.  [Serm. 

that  there  was  a  perfect  justice  somewhere  above  this 
wrongful  world  ;  and  they  could  not  but  believe  that,  at 
some  time,  the  inequalities  of  good  and  evil  should  be 
redressed  ;  and  they  foreboded  that  the  thinking,  turbulent 
thing,  which  each  man  calls  himself,  must  needs  live  on ; 
their  very  hopes  and  fears  prophesied  of  an  hereafter.  But 
for  the  body  they  knew  not  what  to  teach.  They  saw 
sickness  fretting  it  way  ;  old  age  bowing  it  down  ;  death 
turning  it  into  dust :  the  powers  of  nature  taking  it  up  into 
themselves  ;  all  that  they  saw  looked  on  to  dissolution  : 
but  that  this  corruptible  and  dissolving  frame  should  ever 
be  reorganised,  nothing  they  saw  and  reasoned  upon 
seemed  to  imply.  They  thought,  therefore,  that  the  world 
unseen  should  be  peopled  by  spirits — a  visionary  world  of 
bodiless  shades — each  still  bearing  his  name  and  character, 
but  so  changed  as  to  retain  rather  the  likeness  than  the 
sameness  of  their  former  being. 

It  would  seem,  too,  that  even  the  elder  Church  saw 
this  mystery  in  broken  and  uncertain  lights.  They  knew, 
indeed,  that  some  had  never  died  ;  that  some  had  passed 
in  the  body  into  an  unknown  state  in  the  world  unseen. 
Enoch  and  Elijah  might  teach  them  of  the  immortality  of 
the  flesh.  They  might  also  gather  some  thoughts  of  a 
resurrection  from  the  remembrance  of  those  who,  having 
died,  awoke  again,  and  returned  to  the  quick  on  earth, 
before  they  saw  corruption  :  but  that  a  body,  once  turned 
into  dust,  should  be  knit  again  in  its  former  unity,  that  its 
perfect  organisation  should  be  again  restored,  they  had 
neither  seen  nor  imagined ;  unless,  indeed,  we  may  believe 
that,  here  and  there,  a  seer,  illuminated  above  his  fellows, 
saw  the  approach  of  greater  things  than  even  he  himself 
conceived  ;  as,  for  instance,  Job,  who  in  a  twofold  sense 
might  say,  "  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth,  and  that  He 


XXV.]  THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY.  289 

shall  stand  at  the  latter  day  upon  the  earth  ;  and  though, 
after  my  skin,  worms  destroy  this  body,  j'et  in  my  flesh 
shall  I  see  God :  whom  I  shall  see  for  myself,  and  mine 
eyes  shall  behold,  and  not  another."  *  And  so  it  may  be, 
the  Lord  led  onward  the  prophet's  thoughts,  when,  in  the 
valley  of  dry  bones,  He  asked,  "  Son  of  man,  can  these 
bones  live  ?  "  t  And  Daniel,  we  may  believe,  foresaw 
some  great  mystery,  when  he  said,  "  Many  of  them  that 
sleep  in  the  dust  of  the  earth  shall  awake : "  |  and  Isaiah, 
when  he  said,  "  Thy  dead  men  shall  live,  together  with 
my  dead  body  shall  they  arise.  Awake  and  sing,  ye  that 
dwell  in  dust ;  for  thy  dew  is  as  the  dew  of  herbs,  and  the 
earth  shall  cast  out  the  dead."  §  Without  doubt,  they  saw 
as  it  were  the  refracted  light  of  the  coming  mystery  ;  but 
in  some  sense  their  eyes  were  holden,  while  they  ministered 
to  us  greater  things  than  they  themselves  conceived  :  for 
St.  Paul  declares  that  "life  and  immortality"  are  "  brought 
to  light  through  the  Gospel."  |j  It  may  be  that  we  do  not 
see  more  than  they  saw  ;  but  that  what  at  best  they  saw 
dimly,  we  see  with  clearness  of  sight :  and  now  every 
baptised  child  knows  what  sages  doubtfully  foreboded, 
and  even  prophets  saw  beneath  a  veil.  Every  christian 
child  knows  that  as  Christ  rose  from  the  dead,  in  like 
manner  shall  we  rise  again,  in  all  the  fullness  and  same- 
ness of  our  nature  and  our  person  ;  that  we  shall  be  at 
that  day  what  we  are  now,  save  only  that  "  mortality " 
shall  be  •'  swallowed  up  of  life."  And  yet  when  I  say, 
every  Christian  child  knows  this,  I  do  not  mean,  that  any, 
even  the  wisest  of  the  saints,  can  penetrate  into  the  depths 
of  the  mystery.  What  inconceivable  meaning  may  lie  in 
words,   "In  the  day   that  thou   eatest  thereof  thou  shalt 

*  Job.  xix.  27.  t  Ezek.  xxxvii.  3.  |  Dau.  xii.  2. 

$  Isaiah  xxvi.  19.  1|  2  Tim.  i.  10. 

VOL.  I.-19. 


290  THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY.  [Sebu. 

surely  die  j "  or  in  the  promise  that  *'  there  shall  be  no 
more  death,"  so  that  death  shall  have  "  no  dominion  over" 
us  :  what  mysterious  change  passed  upon  the  father  of  us 
all  in  the  day  of  the  transgression,  what  cold  dissolving 
poison  ran  through  his  mortal  body ;  or  what  quickening 
virtue,  in  the  morning  of  the  resurrection,  shall  once  more 
restore  our  earthly  frame,  and  knit  again  in  one  the  dust  we 
once  inhabited, — we  know  not.  Life  and  death  are  alike 
beyond  our  grasp  ;  all  we  know  is,  that  as  we  die,  so  shall 
we  rise;  and  that  as  we  are  here  subject  to  the  powers  of  dis- 
solution, so  we  shall  there  be  deathless  as  the  angels  of  God. 
And  as  the  resurrection  is  the  perfect  restoration  of 
each  several  man,  so  shall  it  be  of  all  mankind.  They 
shall  be  as  if  they  had  never  died.  All  the  great  stream 
of  human  life,  issuing  from  the  first  living  soul,  and  ever 
swelling  itself  by  the  multiplication  of  individual  being, 
and  the  increase  of  people  and  nations  from  age  to  age ;  all 
that  have  ever  lived  from  the  beginning,  both  the  evil  and 
the  good  :  the  righteous  Abel,  the  first  of  saints  that  slept, 
and  all  they  who  have  been  gathered  to  the  same  paradise ; 
and  the  first  man,  whosoever  he  be,  that  died  in  his  sins, 
and  all  that  have  gone  into  the  same  abode  of  sorrow — all 
shall  be  raised  to  life,  and  all  shall  be  immortal.  The 
wicked  shall  be  once  more  clothed  in  flesh  and  blood — 
even  in  that  very  same  in  which  they  sinned  and  died ; 
but  there  shall  have  passed  a  change  upon  them,  and  they 
shall  be  endowed  with  capacities  of  suffering  and  a  sense 
of  agony  which  surpass  the  imaginations  of  our  hearts. 
And  in  that  awful  nature  they  shall  be  for  ever  deathless  : 
"  In  those  days  shall  men  seek  death,  and  shall  not  find  it, 
and  shall  desire  to  die,  and  death  shall  flee  from  them."  * 
Being  itself  shall  become  an  intolerable  anguish  ;    much 

*  Rev.  ix.  6. 


XXV.]  THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY.  291 

more  when  compassed  about  again  with  all  the  memorials 
and  instruments  of  sin,  with  those  very  members  where- 
with they  did  despite  unto  the  Spirit  of  grace.  And  so, 
likewise,  shall  it  be  with  the  holy  dead  :  they  shall  be 
clothed  with  their  hallowed  flesh,  but  in  a  transfigured 
purity,  the  body  of  their  humiliation  being  changed  into  the 
likeness  of  the  body  of  His  glory;*  each  in  his  measure, 
but  all  perfect;  even  as  "there  is  one  glory  of  the  sun, 
and  another  glory  of  the  moon,  and  another  glory  of  the 
stars  ;  for  one  star  difTereth  from  another  star  in  glory  :  so 
also  is  the  resurrection  of  the  dead."!  All  shall  rise, 
"every  man  in  his  own  order:"  "the  dead  in  Christ 
shall  rise  first:  then  we  which  are  alive  and  remain  shall 
be  caught  up  together  with  them."f  First  the  children 
of  the  kingdom,  then  the  children  of  the  wicked  one, — 
multitudes  that  no  man  can  number:  two  mighty  com- 
panies, in  one  great  family,  gathered  on  the  right  hand 
and  on  the  left  of  the  Son  of  Man. 

2.  Now  from  what  has  been  said,  there  is  another 
truth  which  follows  by  an  inference  so  direct  as  to  be  self- 
evident  ;  and  yet  it  is  sometimes  questioned.  It  is  plain, 
then,  that  among  those  that  are  raised  from  the  dead,  there 
shall  be  a  perfect  recognition  ;  and  that  not  limited  to  the 
blessed,  but,  like  the  resurrection  itself,  comprehendino^ 
the  wicked  also.  It  follows  inseparably  from  the  idea  of 
personal  identity,  and  the  law  of  individual  responsibility, 
that  it  should  be  so.  Awful  as  the  thought  must  be,  we 
may  not  doubt  that  even  in  the  outer  darkness,  they  that 
have  sinned  together  shall  be  conscious  of  their  common 
anguish  :  and  they  that  have  here  tempted  their  fellows  in 
condemnation  shall  look  in  horror  on  the  prey  they  have 
destroyed  ;    and  all  the  long-drawn  consequences  of  their 

*  Phil.  iii.  21.  t  1  Cor.  xv.  41,  42.  t  1  Thess.  iv.  16,  17. 


292  THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY.  [Serm, 

evil  life  shall  be  unfolded  to  their  sight,  in  the  misery  of 
those  that  have  fallen  by  their  guilt :  and  in  the  kingdom 
of  sorrow  and  spiritual  wickedness,  remorse,  and  revenge, 
and  hate,  and  horror,  and  despair,  and  the  implacable 
strife  of  wills  that  on  earth  consented  to  do  evil,  shall 
kindle  and  multiply  the  torment  of  lost  souls  ;  each  one 
reflecting  another's  agony,  and  making  more  intense  the 
piercing  energy  of  pain.  But  this  is  not  the  part  of  the 
subject  that  people  are  wont  to  doubt  of.  It  seems  in 
harmony  with  the  laws  of  eternal  right,  that  mutual  recog- 
nition in  the  abodes  of  misery,  and  conscious  privation  of 
bliss,  and  of  the  fellowship  of  blessed  souls  known  here, 
but  parted  from  them  hereafter,  should  enter  into  the 
portion  of  the  reprobate.  The  difficulties  all  arise  on  the 
other  side ;  and  these  we  will  now  consider.  Some  people 
out  of  a  coldness  of  heart,  and  many  out  of  a  hoping 
timidity,  as  fondly  desiring  what  they  hardly  dare  to  hope, 
often  ask,  "  Is  it  not  too  blessed  to  be  true  ?  Can  it  be  ? 
Shall  we  indeed  know  again  all  whom  we  have  loved 
here  ?  "  Surely  it  must  be  so.  How  else  shall  we  be 
then  what  we  are  now,  if  one-half  of  all  our  conscious 
being  shall  be  annihilated  ?  If  memory,  and  knowledge, 
and  love  be  so  dim  and  overcast,  as  that  we  shall  not 
remember,  and  know  and  love  with  all  the  absolute  fullness 
and  identity  of  our  present  being,  how  shall  we  be  perfect  ? 
This  would  be  a  retrogression  in  the  order  of  intelligences, 
not  an  exaltation;  a  straitening,  not  an  unfolding,  of  our 
spiritual  life.  But  it  is  sometimes  argued — "  If  we  shall 
recognise  all  those  whom  we  meet  again,  shall  we  not  also 
remember  those  whom  we  miss  from  that  blessed  com- 
pany? Will  not  the  consciousness  that  some  are  wanting 
there  embitter  even  the  bliss  of  heaven?  Will  the  fellow- 
ship of  some  we  love  fill  the  heart  which  yearns  for  those 


XXV.]  THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY.  293 

that  appear  not  in  glory  ?  Will  there  not  be  even  in 
heaven  '  a  voice  heard,'  as  in  Ramah  :  'Rachel  mourning 
for  her  children,'  and  refusing  *  to  be  comforted  for  her 
children,'  because  they  are  not?"  These  are  hard  rea- 
sonings, and  too  entangled  that  we  should  unravel  them. 
But  there  are  other,  and  those  not  less  difficulties  in  the 
works  of  God  ;  and  yet  the  apostle  thought  them  no 
hindrance  to  the  mysteries  of  truth,  nor  any  signs  of 
wisdom  in  those  that  started  them.  Some  before  now 
have  asked,  "  How  are  the  dead  raised  up,  and  with 
what  body  do  they  come  ?  "  We  therefore  need  not  go 
far  to  put  these  questionings  to  silence.  But,  after  all, 
they  are  doubts  which  not  only  oppose  themselves  in  the 
attitude  of  objections,  but  shape  themselves  into  fears ; 
they  thrust  their  way  unbidden  into  shrinking  minds,  that 
would  fain  believe  them  false.  What  shall  we  say,  then  ? 
God  has  not  drawn  up  the  veil,  and  we  cannot  pierce  its 
folds.  We  may  give,  indeed,  some  sort  of  answer ;  but 
we  cannot  allay  the  unrest  which  these  misgivings  breathe 
into  our  minds.  Let  us,  however,  consider  that  God 
recognises  all,  both  them  that  are  saved,  and  them  that 
perish  ;  He  loves  them  beyond  all  love  of  ours,  and  His 
bliss  is  perfect :  in  heaven  we  are  made  partakers  as  of 
His  will,  so  of  His  bliss  ;  and  both  in  us  shall  be  perfect 
too.  This  must  be  answer  enough  for  the  understanding ; 
and  until  we  "  know  even  as  we  are  known,"  faith  must 
make  answer  to  our  hearts. 

But  these  were  no  doubtful  questions  in  times  of  a 
livelier  faith.  "  Shall  there  not  be,  beloved,"  asked  St. 
Austin,  in  preaching  on  the  resurrection,  "  shall  there  not 
be  a  recognition  of  us  all?  Do  ye  think  that  ye  shall 
recognise  me  then  because  ye  know  me  now,  and  that  ye 
shall  not  know  my  father  whom  ye  have  not  known  here, 


294  THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY.  [Serm. 

or  the  bishop  who  years  ago  ruled  over  this  Church  ?  Ye 
shall  know  all.  They  who  shall  be  there,  shall  not  there- 
fore recognise  each  other  because  they  shall  behold  his 
face ;  the  mutual  recognition  of  that  place  shall  come 
from  a  higher  knowledge.  All  shall  see  then,  and  much 
more  excellently,  as  prophets  here  are  wont  to  see.  They 
shall  see  with  a  divine  vision,  when  all  shall  be  full  of 
God,"*  So  they  believed  of  old,  and  so  may  we  stedfastly 
believe  now.  All  the  saints  of  God  shall  have  a  transcen- 
dent and  intuitive  knowledge,  not  sought  out  of  the  memory, 
nor  gathered  from  experience,  nor  drawn  from  reasonings, 
but  by  insights,  and  consciousness,  and  beatific  vision. 
Shall  we  not  know  angels ;  Gabriel,  who  was  sent  of  God 
to  Nazareth  ;  and  him,  too,  whose  name  was  *'  secret  ?  "  f 
And  shall  we  know  the  angels,  and  not  know  the  saints  of 
God  ?  Shall  we  know  the  angel  Gabriel,  and  not  know 
the  faithful  Abraham  ?  Shall  we  not  behold  patriarchs 
and  prophets,  and  apostles  and  martyrs,  Enoch  and  Moses, 
and  John  Baptist  and  the  Blessed  Virgin?  Shall  these  be 
to  us  (to  speak  like  heathen  men)  as  nameless  spirits  and 
unknown  shades  ;  or  shall  they  not  be  revealed  in  all  the 
fulness  of  that  mysterious  individual  perfection  which  we 
now  by  faith  believe  and  celebrate  ?  Yes,  of  a  truth,  they 
that  have  come  from  "  the  east  and  the  west,"  to  "  sit 
down  with  Abraham,  and  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  in  the  king- 
dom of  heaven,"  shall  not  fail  to  know  them  in  that  day. 
Surely  we  shall  say,  •'  Lo,  there  is  he  that  never  saw 
death  ;  and  there,  the  '  man  greatly  beloved ; '  and  there, 
she  that  sat  at  the  feet  of  Jesus,  and  the  woman  that  stood 
behind  Him  weeping ;  and  the  disciple  that  lay  on  His 
bosom  at  that  last  sad  supper ;  and  there  he  is  that  thrice 
denied  his  Lord,  and  then  wept  bitterly  ;  and  there  is  the 

•  S.  August,  serm.  in  dieb.  pasch.  ccxliii.  6.  \  Judges  xiii.  18. 


XXV.]  THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY.  295 

glorious  apostle  through  whose  preaching  and  martyrdom 
we  '  sinners  of  the  Gentiles'  were  bidden  to  the  marriage- 
supper  of  the  Lamb ;  and  there  are  they  that  in  the  first 
age  trod  the  purple  path  to  a  palm  and  crown ;  and  they 
that,  age  after  age,  followed  the  Lamb  in  sanctity  and 
pureness  :  I  have  heard  of  them  by  hearsay,  but  now  I  see 
them  each  one  face  to  face,  as  though  I  had  lived  and 
conversed  with  them  in  the  days  of  the  flesh."  And  if  we 
shall  know  them  w4)om  we  have  not  seen,  how  shall  we 
not  know  them  whom  we  have  seen  ?  Shall  w^e  recognise 
the  objects  of  our  faith,  and  not  know  the  objects  of  our 
love  ?  Shall  we  know  those  of  whose  presence  our  imagi- 
nations have  wrought  in  vain  to  shape  so  much  as  an 
outline,  and  not  know  those  with  whom  we  have  here 
companied  through  the  long  years  of  our  earthly  sojourn; 
whose  form,  and  bearing,  and  speaking  looks,  and  every 
visible  movement,  are  interwoven  with  our  very  conscious- 
ness; who  are  so  knit  to  us  as  to  be  all  but  our  very 
selves  ?  Such,  indeed,  is  the  hope  of  the  Gospel,  and  the 
faith  of  the  Catholic  Church.  Let  no  man  defraud  you  of 
your  joy.  When  any  would  try  you  with  a  doubt,  make 
answer,  "I  believe  ...  in  the  communion  of  saints  .  .  .  the 
resurrection  of  the  body"  Say  what  you  will,  we  are  fools, 
and  ye  are  wise  ;  but,  wise  or  foolish,  this  I  know,  we 
shall  meet  again  even  as  we  parted  :  yet  not  altogether ; 
there  shall  be  no  more  tokens  of  the  fall,  no  more  lines  of 
sorrow,  no  more  furrows  of  tears,  no  more  distress,  no 
more  changes,  no  more  fading,  no  more  death  ;  but  all 
shall  be  fair,  and  radiant,  and  full  of  life,  as  in  Him  that 
said,  '*  Behold  .  .  .  that  it  is  I  myself." 

There  are  one  or  two  further  remarks  to  be  made  on 
this  doctrine,  and  with  them  I  will  conclude. 

And  first ;  it  throws  a  great  light  upon  the  true  doctrine 


296  THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY.  [Serdj. 

of  what  the  Church  is.  We  are  so  inclined  to  take  a 
shallow  and  external  view  of  it,  and  to  limit  its  character 
and  ofhce  to  this  world,  and  to  the  successions  of  time,  that 
we  miss  the  real  nature  of  the  visible  Church.  It  is  not  a 
form  or  piece  of  mechanism  moulded  by  the  human  will, 
or  put  together  for  the  uses  and  expedients  of  men  and 
nations ;  but  a  mystery,  partaking  of  a  sacramental 
character,  framed  and  ordained  by  God  Himself.  In 
a  word,  the  Church  is  the  root  of  the  new  creation, 
which  shall  be  raised  in  its  fulness  at  the  last  day ;  it  is  in 
part  earthly,  in  part  heavenly ;  it  is  both  fleshly  and 
spiritual,  visible  and  invisible,  mortal  and  immortal ; 
"  there  is  one  body  and  one  spirit."  And  it  is  ever 
putting  off  its  mortal  shroud,  casting  its  sere  leaves  upon 
the  earth,  and  withdrawing  its  vitality  into  its  hidden 
source.  As  the  saints  fall  asleep  one  by  one,  the  "  dust 
returns  to  the  earth  as  it  was,  and  the  spirit  returns  unto 
God  that  gave  it."  And  these  two  miracles  are  ever 
working ;  the  bodies  of  the  saints  are  dying  daily,  their 
spirits  changing  to  the  likeness  of  their  Lord.  The  earth 
is  sowing  with  holy  dust ;  and  the  world  unseen  replen- 
ishing with  the  souls  of  the  righteous.  The  Church  is,  in 
very  truth,  the  kingdom  of  the  resurrection;  which  in  its 
secret  beginnings  is  being  "  fashioned  beneath  in  the 
earth  ; "  and  though  it  pass  through  miraculous  changes, 
yet  it  is  one  and  the  same  Church  still,  even  as  He  was 
the  same  Christ  both  before  and  after  He  rose  from  the 
dead ;  not  two,  but  one  only ;  first  mortal,  afterwards 
immortal.  So  also  is  the  spouse  of  Christ  one  and  the 
same,  both  now  and  hereafter ;  now  imperfect,  ever 
changing,  outwardly  decaying,  inwardly  transfigured  ; 
hereafter  perfect,  changeless,  glorious,  and  eternal.  And 
even  now  already,  in  the  clear  foresight  of  the  Everlasting, 


XXV.]  THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY.  297 

to  whom  all  things  are  present  in  their  fulness,  it  is  com- 
plete in  Christ.  But  to  us  who  see  only  in  part,  and  by 
broken  aspects,  and  on  the  outer  surface,  it  is  imperfect, 
and  to  come ;  but  flowing  on,  and  continually  unfolding 
itself  from  age  to  age.     Such,  then,  is  the  Church. 

And,  lastly;  we  may  learn  what  is  the  nature  of  the 
holy  sacraments.  Baptism  is  our  first  engrafting  into  the 
kingdom  of  the  resurrection.  We  are  thereby  translated 
from  the  old  creation  to  the  new ;  from  the  powers  of  death 
to  life.  Our  whole  nature,  in  body,  soul,  and  spirit,  is 
made  to  partake  of  the  resurrection  of  Christ,  by  the  secret 
working  of  the  same  Spirit  which  raised  Him  from  the 
dead.  The  nature  which  saw  no  corruption  is  the  prin- 
ciple of  an  incorruptible  life  in  us;  so  that  it  may  be  said 
of  us  that  we  are  "risen  with  Christ;"  and  that  not  only 
in  figure,  but  in  spirit ;  not  only  in  pledge,  but  by  unity 
with  Him,  who  Himself  is  "the  resurrection  and  the  life." 
And  so,  in  like  manner,  the  holy  eucharist  is  the  food  of  our 
risen  life,  the  hidden  manna,  the  bread  of  the  resurrection. 
In  it  we  feed  on  Him  who  is  the  power  of  immortality ; 
we  are  made  partakers  of  the  glorified  manhood  of  the 
second  Adam,  bone  of  His  bone,  flesh  of  His  flesh  ;*  and, 
being  "joined  to  the  Lord,"  we  are  "one  spirit." 

Therefore,  brethren,  as  men  baptised  into  Christ,  and 
nourished  with  the  living  bread,  you  have  been  brought 
under  the  powers  of  the  world  unseen.  The  virtue  of  a 
holy  resurrection  is  in  your  mortal  bodies  ;  the  beginnings 
of  the  spiritual  body  are  within  you :  cherish  the  gift  vou 
have  received  ;  beware  how  you  wound  or  soil  the  holy 
thing  "  which  by  nature  you  could  not  have;"  for  immor- 
tality is  a  perilous  endowment :  whether  in  sorrow  or  in 
bliss,  we  must  be  deathless.     And  this  our  eternal  destiny 

•  Eph.  V.  30. 


298  THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY.  [Serm. 

is  now  hanging  in  the  balance.  What  more  awful  thought 
can  the  heart  of  man  conceive  than  the  fall  of  a  regenerate 
spirit  ?  what  more  fearful  than  the  first  movement  towards 
declension  ?  "  for  it  is  impossible  for  those  who  were  once 
enlightened,  and  have  tasted  of  the  heavenly  gift,  and  were 
made  partakers  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  have  tasted  the 
good  word  of  God,  and  the  powers  of  the  world  to  come, 
if  they  shall  fall  away,  to  renew  them  again  unto  repen- 
tance."* The  body  with  which  we  are  clothed  must 
either  be  quickened  in  holiness  with  our  spirit,  or  it  will 
turn  back  again  toward  the  second  death,  and  through  it 
our  spirit  also  become  "  twice  dead."  In  the  faithful  it  is 
kept  under  and  held  in  check  by  "the  powers  of  the  world 
to  come ; "  but  in  the  faithless  it  is  a  haunt  of  impurity, 
and  a  minister  of  sin  and  hell.  Let  us  watch  against  the 
carnal  mind ;  for  though  it  be  thrust  clown  from  its  dominion, 
yet  the  infection  of  our  nature  abides  still  in  the  regenerate. 
The  immortality  which  is  in  us  may  yet  become  "  earthly, 
sensual,  devilish."  We  may  yet  be  doomed  to  an  unhal- 
lowed resurrection,  and  to  an  endless  life  "where  the  worm 
dieth  not,  and  the  fire  is  not  quenched."  But  it  is  also 
a  blessed  thought,  that  there  is  a  change  awaiting  us. 
After  all  our  toiling  and  self-chastisement,  there  still 
remains  with  us  a  fast-cleaving  and  mysterious  evil ; 
and  a  deep  consciousness  is  ever  telUng  us  that,  do  what 
we  may,  we  must  bear  the  grave-clothes  of  the  fall  till  the 
morning  of  the  resurrection  ;  that  we  must  suffer  under  the 
load  of  an  imperfect  nature,  until  God  shall  resolve  our 
sullied  manhood  into  its  original  dust,  and  gather  it  up 
once  more  in  a  restored  purity.  The  hope  of  the  resur- 
rection is  the  stay  of  our  souls  when  they  are  wearied  and 
baffled  in  striving  against  the  disobedience  of  our  passive 

•  Heb.  vi.  4-6. 


XXV]  THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY.  299 

nature.  At  that  day  we  shall  be  delivered  from  the  self 
which  we  abhor,  and  be  all  pure  as  the  angels  of  God. 
O  healing  and  kindly  death,  which  shall  refine  our  mortal 
flesh  to  a  spiritual  body,  and  make  our  lower  nature  chime 
with  the  Eternal  will  in  faultless  harmony  !  Let  us,  then, 
as  they  that  in  pledge  and  promise  are  risen  with  Christ, 
so  live  in  sympathy  with  the  world  to  come,  that  death, 
and  the  resurrection  of  the  dead,  may  be  not  so  much  a 
change  in  our  earthly  life  as  the  crown  of  its  perfection. 
Let  us  so  live  that  our  earthly  course  may  run  on  into 
eternity,  and  be  itself  eternal.  Let  us  never  doubt  because 
we  see  no  visible  tokens  to  bespeak  the  virtue  which  is 
passing  on  us.  The  Church  itself  is  but  a  fellowship  of 
men  that  shall  die ;  but  yet  she  is  "  all  glorious  within." 
Wait  till  the  morning  of  the  new  creation,  and  then  shall  all 
be  revealed  :  and  the  body,  which  now  shrouds  the  spirit, 
shall  be  as  clear  as  the  noon-day  light ;  and  then  shall  be 
seen  openly  what  now  is  shrined  within  ;  and  *'  the  right- 
eous shine  forth  as  the  sun  in  the  kingdom  of  their  Father."* 

*  St.  Matt.  xiii.  43. 


SERMON  XXVI. 


THE  GLORY  OF  THE  RIGHTEOUS. 


St.  Matthew  xiii.  43. 

"  Then  shall  the  righteous  shine  forth  as  the  sun  in  the  kingdom  of 

their  Father." 

It  is  plain  that  these  words  are  spoken  of  the  end  of  the 
world,  and  of  the  condition  of  the  righteous  in  God's  eternal 
kingdom.  The  purpose  for  which  Christ  came  into  the 
world  was,  "  to  bring  in  everlasting  righteousness."  All 
other  gifts  and  distributions  of  grace,  mercy,  and  forgive- 
ness, are  but  parts  of  this  one  great  and  perfect  gift.  It 
was  for  righteousness  that  the  whole  creation  groaned  and 
travailed  together :  wrong,  and  falsehood,  and  violence, 
and  impurity,  and  darkness,  and  the  torment  of  an  evil 
heart,  in  one  word,  unrighteousness,  was  both  the  sin  and 
the  misery  of  mankind. 

So,  also,  in  one  word,  the  redemption  of  man  through 
the  blood-shedding  of  Christ  is  the  restoration  of  righteous- 
ness to  the  world.  Noah  was  the  "  heir  of  the  righteousness 
which  is  by  faith."  *  The  prophecy  of  the  Gospel  was, 
that  "righteousness"  should  "look  down  from  heaven  ;"t 

•  Heb.  xi,  7.  t  Ps.  Ixxxv.  11. 


Sbrm.  XXVI.]      THE  GLORY  OF  THE  RIGHTEOUS.  301 

and  again  v^e  read,  "  Drop  down,  ye  heavens,  from  above, 
and  let  the  skies  pour  down  righteousness  ;  let  the  earth 
open,  and  let  them  bring  forth  salvation,  and  let  righteous- 
ness spring  up  together :  "*  "  Sow  to  yourselves  in  right- 
eousness, reap  in  mercy  ;  break  up  your  fallow  ground  : 
for  it  is  time  to  seek  the  Lord,  till  He  come  and  rain 
righteousness  upon  you."t  And  therefore,  when  the  "Sim 
of  righteousness  "J  arose  upon  the  earth,  "  the  ministration 
of  righteousness  "<§>  was  brought  into  the  world,  "  that  as 
sin  hath  reigned  unto  death,  even  so  might  grace  reign 
through  righteousness,  unto  eternal  life,  by  Jesus  Christ  our 
Lord. "II  And  to  this  end  we  have  received  the  "gift  of 
righteousness,"^  which,  though  perfect  in  itself,  is  not  yet 
made  perfect  in  us,  but  is  ordered  by  the  laws  and  measures 
of  growth,  and  slow  advancement;  and  therefore  the  whole 
mystical  body  of  Christ,  which  is  so  made  one  with  Him 
that  He  is  made  "righteousness"  unto  us,  is  still  waiting 
"  for  the  hope  of  righteousness  by  faith."**  All  the 
regenerate  are  brought,  by  the  working  of  His  grace,  into 
a  relation  to  the  perfect  righteousness  of  His  person  and 
His  kingdom  ;  and  they  that  are  of  faith  shall  partake  in 
fulness  what  they  now  have  only  in  pledge.  "  The  path 
of  the  just,"  or  "  righteous,"  "is  as  the  shining  light,  which 
shineth  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day  ; "  and  "  at 
His  coming  and  His  kingdom  "  they  shall  be  "  arrayed  in 
fine  linen,  clean  and  white,"  which  is  "  the  righteousness 
of  saint3."tt  Such  is  the  meaning  of  our  Lord's  words  : 
"  Then  shall  the  righteous  shine  forth  as  the  sun."  From 
which  we  may  learn  : 

In  the  first  place,  that  righteousness  is  a  gift  which  lies 

*  Isaiah  xlv.  8.  t  Hoaea  x.  12.  t  Mai.  iv.  2. 

$  2  Cor.  iii.  9.  ||  Rom.  v.  21.  f  Rom.  v.  17. 

•*  Gal.  V.  5.  ft  Rev.  xix.  8. 


302  THE  GLORY  OF  THE  RIGHTEOUS.  [Serm. 

hid  in  us  here  in  this  earthly  hfe  ;  and  that,  partly  because 
it  is  a  thing  in  its  very  nature  spiritual  and  inward,  dwelling 
in  the  soul  of  man ;  and  partly  because  it  is  concealed  by 
the  imperfections  of  our  being,  by  the  decay  of  our  bodily 
frame,  and  the  like.  In  this  life  it  is  so  disguised,  so 
shrouded  in  our  mortality,  and  so  mixed  up  with  the 
changes  and  conditions  of  this  world,  that  the  gift  of 
righteousness  is  rather  an  object  of  faith  than  of  sight. 
We  do,  indeed,  at  all  times  see  the  tokens  of  its  presence  ; 
but  what  we  behold,  and  all  that  is  indicated  by  tlie  tokens 
we  see,  is  but  a  very  small  measure  of  that  abounding 
grace  of  righteousness  which,  like  leaven  in  the  mass,  is 
hid  in  the  world,  for  the  restoration  of  mankind  to  eternal 
life.  For  instance,  we  are  delivered  from  the  power  of 
death,  and  yet  we  must  die  ;  we  are  made  righteous,  and 
yet  we  are  alloyed  with  imperfections.  The  very  fact  of 
death  is  full  of  mj'stery.  We  are  delivered  from  death  by 
dying  ;  and,  though  redeemed  from  it,  we  must  fall  under 
its  power.  It  is  upon  us  at  all  times  ;  all  pains,  and 
sicknesses,  and  gnawing  diseases,  and  deadly  humors, 
which  through  life  gather  in  us, — all  these  are  death.  All 
our  life  long  we  are  in  death  ;  in  very  truth,  we  are  dead 
while  we  live  :  for  all  the  sufferings  of  the  flesh  are  the 
shadows  and  the  forerunners  and  the  workings  of  death  in 
us;  all  the  bodily  ills  which  fasten  and  prey  upon  mankind 
are  laws  of  the  kingdom  of  death.  And  so  it  has  pleased 
God  to  ordain  that  even  the  righteous  shall  die  ;  that  they 
shall  be  bowed  and  bent  with  ills  of  the  flesh,  scathed  and 
withered  up  by  the  powers  of  the  visible  world,  by  cold 
and  heat,  and  pestilence,  and  famine,  and  the  like  ;  that 
their  earthly  nature  shall  be  as  it  were  warred  upon,  and 
beat  down,  and  brought  into  bondage  by  the  strife  of  matter. 
The  earthly  bodies  of  the  holiest  are  oftentimes  '*  marred 


XXVI.]  THE  GLORY  OF  THE  RIGHTEOUS.  303 

more    than    any    man  "    by    sharp    pains,    and    lingering 
anguish,   and    fearful  forms  of  fleshly   evil  ;    or  if  not   so 
afflicted,  yet  we  see  the  faculties  of  nature  decay,  the  sight 
wax  dim,  and  the  ear   heavy,  and    the  whole  man  grow 
weak  and  weary,  and  spent  with  bearing  the  burden  and 
the  load  of  a  sinking  body.     And   not  only  so,  but  even 
the  powers  which  are  most  closely  allied  to  the  soul,  which 
seem  to  adhere  in  the  spiritual  life,  they  too  give  way,  or 
are    hidden ;    as    if  they  retired    from    manifestation    and 
outward  exercise,  all  the  organs  through  which  they  were 
wont  to  act  being  blunted,  and  withdrew  themselves  into 
the  depth  of  our  secret  immortality  :  "  In  the  day  when  the 
keepers  of  the  house   shall  tremble,  and   the   strong  men 
shall   bow    themselves,    and    the    grinders    cease    because 
they  are  few,  and  those  that  look   out  of  the  windows  be 
darkened,  and  the  doors  shall  be  shut  in  the  streets,  when 
the  sound  of  the  grinding  is  low,  and  he  shall  rise  up  at 
the  voice  of  the  bird,  and  all  the  daughters  of  music  shall 
be  brought  low  ;    also  when  they  shall  be  afraid  of  that 
which  is  high,  and   fears   shall   be   in   the   way,   and   the 
almond-tree   shall  flourish,   and  the  grasshopper   shall  be 
a  burden,  and  desire  shall  fail  :  "*  then  it  comes  to  pass 
that  the  wisest  of  men  turns  again  to  the  wandering  of  a 

o  o 

child  ;  the  most  piercing  reason  is  as  dull  as  if  it  were  worn 
away  ;  the  memory  is  misleading  and  confused  ;  and  all 
the  intellectual  powers  seem  to  be  suspended  and  concealed. 
But  there  is  a  greater  mystery  still.  The  decay  of  the 
flesh,  and  of  the  intellectual  powers,  which  put  themselves 
forth  through  the  flesh  and  hold  converse  with  this  visible 
world,  is  a  wonderful  token  of  the  fall,  and  a  mark  of 
humiliation  left  still  upon  the  redeemed ;  yet  all  these 
powers  and  energies  are  external  to  the  spiritual  life,  and 

*  Ecclea.  xii.  3-5. 


^ 


S04  THE  GLORY  OF  THE  RIGHTEOUS.  [Serm. 

abide  rather  at  its  circumference  than  in  its  centre  ;  and 
therefore,  though  it  must  ever  be  an  awful  sight  to  behold 
even  the  righteous  wasting  away  by  natural  decline,  and, 
year  by  year,  becoming  dead,  and  bereft  of  the  powers  of 
our  bodily  and  intellectual  nature,  yet  it  is  in  harmony 
with  the  laws  which  order  all  things.  It  is  a  sight  full  of 
deep  and  sorrowful  thoughts,  to  see  a  man  once  endowed 
with  strength,  and  wisdom,  and  knowledge,  and  skill,  and 
power  of  speech,  and  with  unbending  firmness,  whose 
whole  life  seemed  to  be  taken  up  into  one  energy  of  right- 
eousness, year  by  year  passing  off,  unknown  to  himself, 
into  lower  and  feebler  movements,  and  at  last  so  changed 
and  clouded,  as  to  outlive  his  very  self.  And  yet  there 
are  around  us  things  which  speak,  as  in  a  parable,  of  such 
decays.  All  the  changes  of  nature — the  falling  of  sapless 
branches,  and  the  gathering  clouds  which  hide  the  light 
of  heaven — are  so  many  mute  witnesses,  that  there  is  none 
changeless  and  abiding  but  God  alone  ;  and  that  the  powers 
of  life  are  secret,  often  hid,  without  manifestation  or  a 
visible  presence. 

But  there  is  a  mystery  of  humiliation  even  greater  than 
this,  into  which,  also,  the  righteous  are  permitted  to  enter. 
It  is  most  certain  that  they  partake,  moreover,  of  what 
ma}'  be  called  the  spiritual  decays  of  old  age.  Sometimes, 
indeed,  the  righteous  depart  like  Moses,  the  servant  of  the 
Lord,  who  "  was  an  hundred  and  twenty  years  old  when 
be  died,"  and  yet  "his  eye  was  not  dim,  nor  his  natural 
force  abated  :  "  but  if  we  look  at  Jacob,  and  Eli,  and 
David,  and  Solomon,  and  many  more,  and  at  many  also 
of  whom  we  read  in  the  history  of  the  Church,  or  whom 
we  ourselves  see  around  us,  we  shall  discern  that  the 
decays  of  nature  are  felt  also  in  the  habits  and  powers 
of  the  spiritual  life  ;    and  the  moral    faihngs  which  beset 


XXVI.]  THE  GLORY  OF  THE  RIGHTEOUS, 

old  age  gather  even  about  those  in  whom  is  the  gift  of 
righteousness.  We  see  them,  for  instance,  more  or  less 
under  what  may  be  called  the  powers  of  dissolution. 
Even  the  best  of  men,  when  thej'  grow  old,  become 
credulous,  and  irresolute,  and  of  a  weak  will,  and  feeble 
in  self-control,  and  are  quickly  kindled,  and  haunted  b}'^ 
false  fears  and  fanciful  suspicions,  and  break  out  into 
little,  eccentricities,  and  are  sensitive  if  remarked  upon,  or 
resisted,  or  advised. 

And  these  little  mists  rise  up  and  draw  a  haze  over  the 
brightness  of  the  spirit.  Without  doubt,  the  righteous  who 
have  made  provision  by  self-discipline  and  subjugation  of 
temper,  in  the  time  of  strength,  have  a  great  and  visible 
advantage  over  all  others ;  yet  it  is  not  to  be  denied  that 
even  they,  when  they  come  under  decay,  enter  into  the 
shadows  of  our  human  infirmity. 

But  I  have  thus    far  spoken  only  of  the  partial  and 

casual   obscurations  which  the  righteous  suffer  at  certain 

seasons  and  in  certain  states  of  life  :  it  is  also  most  evident, 

however,  that  all  the  righteous  are,  here  in  this  life,  as  it 

were,  under  a  cloud.     It  is  true  of  every  man  living  in  the 

power  of  his  regeneration,  that  he  is  for  the  most  part  hid 

from    sight.     The    weakness    of  his    nature,  even    though 

regenerate,  baffles  and  dims  the  light  which  is  struggling  ''' 

outward   from  within.     This  is  the  very  condition  of  his 

sanctification  :  for  the  thing  which  by  nature  he  could  not 

have  is   working   mightily,   subduing  all  things  to  itself; 

"but  we  see   not  yet  all    things    put  under"    it.     As   is 

Christ's   kingdom   in    the   world,   so   is  the   beginning   of  •' 

righteousness  in  each   several   man.     It  has  a  deep  root,    '•»'^^.^ 

striking   out   on  every   side,   putting   forth    new   energies, 

changing  things  inwardl}^  into  its  own  likeness,  revealing 

itself  outwardly  by  signs,  and  tokens,  and  a  visible  form 
VOL.  I.-20. 


306  THE  GLORY  OF  THE  RIGHTEOUS.  [Sbrm, 

but  is  itself  hidden  and  invisible.  So  far  as  the  eye  of  the 
world  reaches,  the  holy  Catholic  Church  is  no  more  than 
any  other  visible  polity,  and  not  the  richest,  nor  strongest, 
nor,  in  an  earthly  sense,  the  most  politic  or  prosperous. 
On  the  whole,  though  it  is  evidently  something  that  has 
its  own  character  and  its  own  meaning,  and  is  fulfilling 
some  definite  aim,  whatsoever  that  aim  be — and  the  world 
little  knows  or  cares — -still  it  has  no  overwhelming  proofs 
of  sanctity,  no  obtrusive  tokens  of  a  hidden  life.  Though 
it  be  both  holy  and  visible,  yet  there  is  an  inwardness  and 
a  retirement  about  it  even  in  its  visibleness ;  and  what  is 
this  but  to  say,  that  it  is  perfection  dwelling  in  an  imperfect 
form  ;  eternity  in  time  ;  heaven  in  earth  ;  infinity  in  the 
finite  ;  a  shadow  of  its  mysterious  Head,  in  whom  "  dwell- 
eth  all  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  bodily?"  And  therefore 
the  Church  has  seemed,  at  times,  to  wane  and  to  wax  dim, 
and,  at  times,  to  grow  dark  outwardly  ;  at  the  best  it  has 
exhibited  to  the  world  but  a  chequered  light;  rather  a 
promise  than  a  full  orb  of  brightness. 

So  has  it  ever  been,  and  ever  shall  be,  with  the 
righteous.  They  look  like  other  men  ;  they  have  the  same 
wants,  the  same  toils,  the  same  gains  and  losses,  the  same 
sicknesses  and  decays,  the  same  besetting  infirmities  of  a 
fallen  nature  ;  though  there  be  something  in  them  which 
often  makes  itself  felt  from  within,  and  seems  to  be  at  the 
,  point  of  showing  itself  openly  to  the  world,  yet  it  still  lies 
under  a  veil.  The  light  of  the  righteous  does  indeed 
"  shine  before  men,"  but  not  in  all  its  fulness  :  enough  to 
bespeak  the  gift  that  is  in  them,  but  not  to  unfold  its 
breadth  and  glory.  Men  can  see  that  they  are  in  some 
wa}'^  higher  than  themselves  ;  that  "  greater  is  He  that  is 
in  "  them  "  than  he  that  is  in  the  world  :  "  but  they  cannot 
put  together  the  characters  that  are  impressed  upon  them, 


XXVI]  THE  GLORY  OF  THE  RIGHTEOUS.  307     '^^mt 

and  read  their  meaning;  just  as  men  can  tell  that  a  secret 
cipher  is  a  written  language,  though  they  cannot  unravel 
what  it  says.  Therefore  the  world,  in  all  ages,  has  ever 
either  blackened  and  maligned  the  righteous,  or,  at  least, 
has  distorted  and  deformed  their  character  and  actions. 
Nay,  even  more,  the  righteous  themselves  know  but  in 
part ;  they  are  too  weak  of  sight  to  behold  all  that  God  is 
doing  within  them  ;  ihey  know  that  they  have  received  a 
great  gift  from  Him  ;  that  they  have  powers,  and  capacities, 
and  sympathies,  and  an  energy  derived  from  the  Infinite 
and  Eternal ;  that  wisdom,  and  love,  and  mercy,  and 
purity,  have  no  measure  or  limit,  except  the  nature  in 
which  they  dwell;  as  the  powers  of  seeing  or  of  knowing 
are  limiled  only  by  the  organisation  of  the  body,  and 
the  conditions  by  which  we  attain  to  knowledge  :  and 
yet,  with  this  teeming  consciousness,  the  secret  of  their 
regeneration  is  not  half  known,  even  by  themselves  ;  they 
cannot  comprehend  it,  because  they  are  comprehended  by 
it,  as  a  thing  that  is  greater  than  they  ;  and  in  it  they  have 
their  being.  And  as,  on  the  one  side,  they  are  baffled  by 
the  greatness  of  the  gift,  so,  on  the  other,  are  they  straitened 
by  the  littleness  of  their  own  finite  capacities.  They  feel 
themselves  beset  by  earthly  tempers,  and  narrow  thoughts, 
and  shadows  which  fall  inwardly  upon  their  hearts,  and 
to  their  own  eyes  they  seem  to  be  of  a  dim  and  earthly 
nature  ;  they  know  of  themselves  far  more  evil  than  good  ; 
the  visible  and  prominent  points  of  their  own  character  are 
the  darker  lines,  and  tlie  gloomier  spots,  which  lie  upon 
the  surface ;  in  their  own  sight  they  have  no  brightness,  or,  w 

at  the  best,  a  pale  sickly  light,  often  overcast ;  and  they 
ask,  "Can  this  be  the  gift  of  righteousness?  Can  this 
swerving  will,  and  faint  striving,  and  ready  yielding,  and 
often  slumbering,  and  all  this  throng  of  hasty  tempers,  and 


308  THE  GLORY  OF  THE  RIGHTEOUS.  [Serm. 

high  thoughts,  and  uncbaslened  imaginations,  can  all  this 
dwell  in  the  soul  of  the  righteous?  Am  I  not  passing  a 
cheat  upon  myself,  counting  myself  to  be  what  I  am  not?  " 
And  how  must  all  this  perplexity  be  multiplied  when  a 
righteous  man  falls,  be  it  never  so  little,  from  his  obedience; 
when  to  the  abiding  sense  of  inward  evil  is  added  the 
consciousness  of  fresh  transgressions !  What  a  mystery  is 
the  life  of  David,  the  man  after  God's  own  heart — how 
clouded  and  obscured,  and  that  not  by  false  tongues,  but 
by  his  own  evil  deeds 

Now,  from  all  this  we  may  see  what  is  the  hiddenness 
of  our  spiritual  life — how  little  it  is  perceived  and  under- 
stood by  others — how  imperfectly  it  is  apprehended  even 
by  ourselves — how  it  may  be  for  a  time,  as  it  were, 
altogether  hidden  from  our  own  eyes  ;  and  yet  we  feel 
within  us  something  which  prophesies  of  our  lot  in  God's 
kingdom,  and  foretells  the  perfection  of  our  being  hereafter  j 
we  feel  something  which  pledges  to  us  that  we  shall  not 
fall  back  again  to  the  dominion  of  unrighteousness  ;  some- 
thing which  assures  us  that  we  shall  not  be  for  ever  bounded 
by  the  limits  of  imperfection :  we  feel  yearnings,  and 
aspirations,  and  breathing  hopes,  and  conscious  energies, 
which  reach  after  a  larger  sphere  of  being.  And  so  it  shall 
be  ;  for  "  the  righteous  shall  shine  forth  as  the  sun  in  the 
kingdom  of  their  Father." 

We  learn,  then,  in  the  next  place,  that  this  gift  of 
righteousness,  which  now  lies  hid  in  us,  shall  hereafter  be 
unfolded  in  its  perfection  in  the  kingdom  of  God :  that  is 
to  say,  when  all  things  are  fulfilled,  and  the  end  is  come, 
and  the  righteous  shall  have  passed  through  all  the  changes 
which  lie  between  the  decay  of  our  mortal  bodies  and  our 
perfect  renewal  in  the  image  of  God ;  that  is,  at  the 
resurrection,   when    the    whole    man,   in   body,   soul,    and 


XXVI.]  THE  GLORY  OF  THE  RIGHTEOUS.  309 

spirit,  shall  be  raised  from  the  dead,  "then  shall  the 
righteous  shine  forth  as  the  sun."  By  "  the  kingdom  of 
their  Father,"  therefore,  is  meant  the  kingdom  of  the 
resurrection.  Then  shall  all  that  here  lay  hid  in  them 
be  unfolded ;  all  shall  be  perfect,  and  enlarged  to  an 
ineffable  perfection.  The  very  body  shall  become  a 
vessel  of  glory,  being  made  like  to  the  glorious  body  of 
the  second  Adam  ;  of  whom  even  in  the  days  of  His  flesh, 
we  read,  in  His  one  only  season  of  transient  brightness, 
that  "His  raiment  was  white  and  glistering,"  "  white  as 
the  light,"  "exceeding  white  as  snow,  so  as  no  fuller  on 
earth  can  white  them  ; "  "  and  His  face  did  shine  as  the 
sun:"  so  with  our  flesh;  "it  is  sown  in  weakness,  it  is 
raised  in  power ;  it  is  sown  in  dishonor,  it  is  raised  in 
glory."  The  body  in  which  we  have  groaned  "  being 
burdened,"  in  which  we  have  often  fainted  and  fallen 
back  from  "  the  law  of  the  spirit  of  life,"  in  which  we 
have  been  bowed  down  to  earth  with  blindness  and 
deafness,  and  deadness  of  powers  and  sense, — even  that 
same  earthly  frame  shall  be  full  of  life,  and  penetrated 
with  the  light  of  heaven.  There  shall  be  in  it  no  more 
any  law  warring  against  the  law  of  the  spirit ;  no  division 
of  the  man  against  himself;  no  strife  in  the  being  of  the 
righteous  :  but  the  glorious  body  shall  be  the  glad  minister 
of  a  holy  will,  and  quickened  by  the  pervading  unity  of 
the  glorified  spirit.  And  we  know  that  "  they  which  shall 
be  accounted  worthy  to  obtain  that  world,  and  the  resur- 
rection from  the  dead,"  cannot  "  die  any  more  ;  for  they 
are  equal  to  the  angels,  and  are  the  children  of  God,  being 
the  children  of  the  resurrection."*  Nay,  more ;  we  shall 
bear  the  likeness  of  the  Son  of  God,  of  whom  we  read, 

"  St.  Luke  XX.  35,  3(3. 


4 


310  THE  GLORY  OF  THE  RIGHTEOUS.  [Serm. 

when  He  appeared   to   St.   John,   that   "  His  countenance 
was  as  the  sun  shineth  in  his  strength."* 

And  yet  the  glory  of  the  body  would  seem  to  be  chiefly 
but  the  manifestation  of  the  glory  of  the  spirit.  Then  shall 
our  regeneration  be  fulfilled  :  "  We  shall  be  like  Him, 
for  we  shall  see  Him  as  He  is."  What  this  mysterious 
likeness  may  mean,  it  is  not  for  us  too  curiously  to  inquire. 
Certainly,  we  know  that  every  saint  while  on  earth  has 
had  impressed  upon  him  by  the  hand  of  God  his  own 
definite  character ;  and  yet  all  have  been  likened  to  their 
Lord.  All  their  several  features  of  distinctness  were 
comprehended  in  the  perfect  mind  of  Christ.  They  were 
all  conformed  to  Him ;  they  were  all  knit  in  unity  together, 
by  their  universal  likeness  to  one  common  pattern  ;  and  so 
shall  they  doubtless  be  hereafter,  when  the  faint  beginnings 
of  perfection  shall  be  unfolded  in  the  fulness  of  God's 
kingdom.  All  the  bonds  and  fetters  of  imperfection,  all 
the  heavy  burden  of  earth  and  sinfulness,  and  all  that 
checked  or  thwarted  the  energies  of  their  regenerate  spirit, 
— shall  be  abolished  ;  and  all  that  was  in  them  of  heaven 
and  of  God — all  holy  affections,  and  pure  thoughts,  and 
righteous  intentions, — shall  break  forth  into  the  perfection 
of  glory.  All  that  Noah,  Daniel,  and  Job,  or  David,  and 
Paul,  and  John,  sought  and  strove  to  be,  by  self-chastise- 
ment, and  prayer,  and  righteousness  of  life,  such  they  shall 
be  at  "  the  manifestation  of  the  sons  of  God."  We  see 
now  in  those  around  us,  that  each  one  has  some  charac- 
teristic feature  :  in  the  mind  of  one  we  see  a  deep  wisdom  ; 
of  another,  a  saintly  meekness  ;  of  another,  an  angelic 
contemplation  ;  of  another,  a  burning  charity  ; — each  one 
being  a  law,  a  pattern  to  himself.  We  see,  too,  that  this 
characteristic  feature  is  ever  coming  out  into  a  fuller  shape, 

•  Rev.  i.  16. 


XXVI]  THE  GLORY  OF  THE  RIGHTEOUS.  311 

drawing  towards  its  own  perfect  idea.  So  may  we  believe 
that,  in  the  kingdom  of  the  resurrection,  all  the  gifts  of 
God,  all  graces  of  the  heart,  and  all  endowments  of  the 
sanctified  reason,  shall  then  be  made  perfect :  without 
doubt  all  that  constitutes  the  mysterious  individuality  of 
each  several  man  ;  all  the  inscrutable  features  by  which 
his  spiritual  being  is  distinguished,  without  being  opposed 
to,  or  divided  from,  the  spirits  of  other  men,  shall  be 
perpetuated  hereafter;  and  then  shall  all  differences  be 
harmonised  in  the  perfection  of  bliss,  as  all  hues  are 
blended  in  the  unity  of  light.  Sacraments,  and  prophecies, 
and  signs,  and  all  economies  of  grace,  and  shadows  of 
truth,  shall  all  have  passed  away  ;  and  this  busy  world, 
and  all  the  works  of  it,  shall  be  burned  up;  and  all  worldly 
sciences  shall  be  abolished,  and  all  false  theories  of  truth, 
and  all  falsehood  which  is  interwoven  with  the  truth,  and 
all  vain  and  unprofitable  learning,  shall  be  no  more.  And 
yet  must  we  not  believe,  that  as  all  that  we  have  here 
received  of  grace,  so  also  all  that  we  have  received  of 
truth,  shall  be  perfected  and  made  eternal?  All  the 
mysteries  of  the  Divine  Mind,  of  which  we  have  here 
partaken,  shall  surely  still  abide  in  the  illuminated  spirit. 
In  the  many  orders  and  ranks  of  the  blessed,  there  shall 
be  an  ascent  and  scale  of  being.  All  the  powers  and 
endowments  of  the  individual  mind,  and  of  all  its  contem- 
plative energies,  and  all  the  characters  and  forms  which 
truth  has  impressed  upon  the  sons  of  wisdom  in  this  life, 
shall  doubtless  then  be  carried  onward  to  the  fulness  of 
knowledge  ;  all  shall  be  full  of  light,  and  yet  all  shall  not 
be  of  an  equal  measure ;  all  shall  be  admitted  to  the 
beatific  vision,  but  some  shall  behold  with  a  more  piercing 
gaze ;  as  it  is  here,  so  shall  it  be  there.  Manifold  and 
inexhaustible  variety  is  one  of  the  tokens  of  the  Divine 


^    4    » 

*  f  • 

Si 2  THE  GLORY  OF  THE  RIGHTEOUS.  [Serm. 

Mind  upon  His  visible  works.  It  may  be,  that  were  all 
alike,  it  would  be  as  the  dull  sound  of  one  changeless  tone, 
without  fall  or  harmony.  As  height,  and  breadth,  and 
depth,  and  order,  and  degrees,  and  multitude,  and  unity, 
are  laws  of  God's  kingdom,  so  also  is  harmony,  which  is 
the  unity  of  things  various  and  manifold ;  and  so,  when 
"  the  righteous  shine  forth  as  the  sun,"  all  the  individual 
perfection  which  has  lain  hid  in  the  saints  shall  issue  forth 
and  blend  into  the  eternal  light.  On  the  twelve  gates  of 
the  heavenly  Jerusalem  are  "the  names  of  the  twelve  tribes 
of  the  children  of  Israel;"*  on  the  twelve  foundations  "the 
names  of  the  twelve  apostles  of  the  Lamb;"  the  hundred 
and  forty  and  four  thousand  were  sealed  each  one  in  the 
name  of  his  tribe ;  to  him  that  overcometh  shall  be  given 
"  a  white  stone,  and  in  the  stone  a  new  name  written, 
which  no  man  knoweth  saving  he  that  receiveth  it."  Each 
one  several  and  distinct,  even  as  here,  so  shall  he  be  there; 
each  one  shining  forth  in  his  own  blessedness  ;  and  yet  the 
song  of  the  redeemed,  the  everlasting  chant  of  "  all  nations, 
and  kindred,  and  people,  and  tongues,"  is  but  one ;  their 
voices  without  number,  yet  but  one  accordant  hymn  ;  so 
shall  all  perfection,  and  all  righteousness,  and  all  bliss,  and 
all  thanksgiving,  be  perfect  in  every  saint,  and  united  in 
one  lieavenly  glory,  which  shall  encompass  the  righteous. 

O  wonderful  and  blessed  thought,  that  the  gift  which  is 
in  us  shall  one  day  have  the  mastery  over  all  obstructions; 
that  all  sins,  and  faults,  and  weaknesses,  and  ignorance, 
and  all  decay  and  wandering,  and  all  the  clouds  which  rest 
upon  mortality,  and  all  the  hindrances  of  the  world  and 
of  the  flesh,  shall  be  taken  away  :  and  that  we  shall  be 
ripened  into  a  m5'sterious  perfection  of  the  spiritual  being ! 
Blessed   thought,  and   full  of  freshness  and  calm  to  the 

*  Rev.  xxi.  14,  16;  ii.  17. 


1^ 


XXVI.]  THE  GLORY  OF  THE  RIGHTEOUS.  3 13 

weary  and  heavy-laden,  one  day  all  their  oppressions  shall 
be  rolled  back  from  them,  and  they  shall  '*  shine  forth  as 
the  sun  !  "  Let  us  beware  how  we  judge  one  another. 
Who  knows  what  may  lie  hid  in  the  man  whom  we  slight 
and  cast  out  as  of  no  esteem  ?  who  can  say  how  he  may 
outshine  his  fellows  in  the  kingdom  of  the  resurrection  ? 
"  We  fools  accounted  his  life  madness,  and  his  end  to  be 
without  honor :  how  is  he  numbered  with  the  children  of 
God,  and  his  lot  is  among  the  saints !  Therefore  have  we 
erred  from  the  way  of  truth,  and  the  light  of  righteousness 
hath  not  shined  unto  us,  and  the  sun  of  righteousness  rose 
not  upon  us."*  Wonderful  and  overwhelming,  to  behold 
at  that  day  the  resurrection  of  the  righteous,  each  one 
shining  forth  in  his  own  distinguishable  splendor.  "  Then 
shall  we  know  even  as  also  we  are  known ; "  and  there 
shall  be  strange  overrulings  of  our  blind  judgments. 
"Many  that  are  first  shall  be  last,  and  the  last  shall  be 
first."  The  poor  man  thou  despisedst  an  hour  ago  shall 
sit  higher  than  thou  at  the  marriage-supper  of  the  Lamb. 
And  the  simple  and  unlearned,  and  the  lowly  and  slow 
of  speech,  whom  the  learned,  and  eloquent,  and  lofty,  and 
prosperous,  have  contemned  as  mean  and  foolish,  shall  be 
arrayed  in  exceeding  brightness,  before  which  they  that 
despised  them  shall  be  dim  and  naked.  Let  us  also 
beware  how  we  give  much  care  or  thought  to  any  thing 
but  to  the  perfecting  of  our  hidden  life.  What  else  is 
worth  livino;  for?  What  else  shall  endure  at  Christ's 
coming  ?  Most  awful  and  seaching  day,  when  "  the  light 
of  the  moon  shall  be  as  the  light  of  the  sun,  and  the  light 
of  the  sun  shall  be  sevenfold,  as  the  light  of  seven  days." 
Let  us  therefore  live  ever  wailing  for  that  hour.  What 
matter  though  we   be  poor,  slighted,  slandered,  forgotten, 

*  Wisdom  V.  4-6.  'ifc'*' 


314  THE  GLORY  OF  THE  RIGHTEOUS.  [Serm.  XXVI. 

moving  in  the  shadows  of  the  world,  so  that  we  attain  unto 
a  glorious  resurrection  ?  O  most  glad  hour,  when  it  shall 
dawn  towards  the  first  day  of  the  everlasting  week  ;  when 
there  shall  be  a  making  ready  in  the  heaven  above  and  in 
the  earth  beneath  ;  when  legions  of  angels  shall  gather 
round  the  Sun  of  righteousness,  and  all  orders  and  hosts 
of  heaven  shall  know  that  the  time  for  "the  manifestation 
of  the  sons  of  God  "  is  come.  What  joy  shall  there  be  at 
that  hour  in  the  world  unseen  !  and  what  a  thrill,  as  of  a 
penetrating  light,  shall  run  through  the  dust  where  the 
saints  are  sleeping!  When  was  there  ever  such  a  day- 
spring  since  the  time  when  "  God  said,  Let  there  be  light ; 
and  there  was  light?"  He  shall  come,  and  all  His  shining 
ones  ;  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand,  whose  countenances 
are  "like  lightning,"  and  their  "raiment  white  as  snow;" 
all  the  heavenly  court, — angels,  archangels,  cherubim 
and  seraphim, — clad  in  unimaginable  splendors  ;  and  the 
righteous  shall  arise  from  the  grave,  and  the  earth  shall  be 
lightened  with  their  glory ;  they  shall  stretch  forth  their  hands 
to  meet  Him,  and  bow  themselves  before  the  brightness  of 
His  coming.  O  blessed  hour,  after  all  the  sorrows,  and 
wrongs,  and  falsehoods,  and  darkness,  and  burdens  of  life, 
to  see  Him  face  to  face ;  to  be  made  sinless ;  to  shine 
with  an  exceeding  strength  ;  to  be  as  the  light,  in  which 
there  "  is  no  darkness  at  all !  "  Be  this  our  hope,  our 
chiefest  toil,  our  almost  only  prayer. 


END    OF    VOLUME    I. 


Valuahlr^  Warksy  published  by  Stanford  <^  Swords. 


MARK  WILTON; 


THE   MERCHANT'S    CLERK. 

BT  THK 

REV.  CHARLES  B.  TAYLER, 

AVTHOB  OF  "  LADY  MABY,"  "  MABGAKET,"  "  BECOBDS  OF  A  GOOD  MAN'3  LIFH,"  ITtt 

One  handsome  volume.     12mo.     75c. 

"  An  excellent  book  to  placo  in  the  hands  of  younsr  men.  Mr.  Tayler  is  a  good  writer 
and  a  fine  preacher.  Devoted  to  the  service  of  his  Master,  he  strives  botli  by  his  pen  and 
tongue  to  guard  the  unwary,  instruct  the  ignorant,  direct  the  doubtful,  reclaim  the  wan 
derer,  and  guide  the  steps  of  all  into  the  paths  of  peace.  This  volume  teaches  the  im 
portance  of  resisting  sin,  by  showing  the  difficulties  and  sorrows  which  a  compliance  with 
its  temptations  involve. — Episcopal  Recorder. 

"  This  volume,  in  the  deep  interest  which  its  perusal  excites,  is  not  inferior  to  the  au 
tnor's  'Records  of  a  Good  Man's  Life,'  which,  as  every  reader  knows,  is  awarding  to  it 
very  high  praise.  The  pictures  of  individuals  and  families  are  so  life-like,  the  various 
shades  of  character  so  finely  and  accurately  drawn,  that  the  reader's  attention  is  rivetted 
from  first  to  last.  The  narrative  is  autobiou'raphical,  and  is  written  with  such  an  air  o( 
candor,  and  interspersed  with  reflections  so  natural  to  the  incidents,  that  it  is  really  diffi 
cult  to  divest  one's  self  of  the  impression  that  it  is  truth  and  not  fiction.  In  one  respect 
we  think  '  Mark  Wilton  '  is  even  superior  to  the  author's  former  productions — the  four 
fold  phase  of  character  exhibited  in  the  narrative  is  preserved  with  astonishing  fidelity 
and  clearness.  These  are  e.\emplified  in  the  character  of  a  family  of  high  worldly  integ- 
rity; of  another,  whose  whole  domestic  discipline  is  regulated  by  the  elevated  precepts 
of  Christian  principle;  of  a  young  man,  a  fellow  clerk  of  Wilton's,  remarkable  for  his 
decision  and  firmness  of  Christian  character;  and  of  Mark  Wilton,  easily  seduced  from 
virtue,  lacking  strength  to  resist  example  and  vicious  influences,  often  wandering  far  from 
rectitude,  yet  again  impulsive  for  good  when  arrested  in  his  downward  path.  The  subor- 
dinate characters  serve  to  make  apparent  these  distinctions  We  would  that  the  book 
were  carefully  read  by  all  for  whom  it  is  especially  designed — the  clerks  in  a  great  citjr 
■  N.  Y.  Commercial  Advertiair 


s,^ 


Vdluabir  Works,  published  by  Stanford  <^  Swords. 

LADY     MARY 


LADY     HARY 


NOT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

BY  THE  REV.  C.  B.  TAYLER, 

AUTHOR   OF   "  MARGAEET,"  ETC.  ETC. 

One  handsome  volume.     12mo.     75c. 

Some  of  tho  reviewers  have  found  fault  with  me  for  writing  about  persons  in  tae 
upper  classes  of  society.  I  think  it  well  to  say  that  in  "Margaret,"  and  in  the  volume 
ivhich  is  now  offered  to  the  public,  I  have  purposely  done  so.  I  love  to  write  for  the 
lower  and  middling  classes.  *  *  *  *  gut  I  am  naturally,  I  ought  almost  say  a  close 
observer,  and  I  have  seen  in  the  upper  ranks  of  society  much  that  is  inconsistent  with  a 
Christian  profession.  They  have  also  immortal  souls,  their  situation  is  one  of  peculiar 
peril,  and  our  blessed  Lord  has  addressed  some  of  his  severest  admonitions  and  most 
awful  warnings  to  them.  Their  influence  is  great,  their  example  of  -lonsiderable  impor- 
tance, their  rosponsibility  before  God  is  proportionate.  I  have,  therefore,  endeavored  to 
write  also  for  the  noble  and  the  rich  ;  and  to  attack,  with  weapons  which  are  not  carnal 
but  mighty  through  God,  '  the  Ftroug  holds  of  the  adversary  among  the  worldly  and 
among  tlioso  who  are  lovers  of  pleasure  more  than  lovers  of  God,'  " — Preface. 

"  We  take  great  pleasure  in  calling  attention  to  this  most  excellent  volume,  which  must 
meet  with  a  Wide  circulation.  The  style  is  beautifully  simple,  the  narrative  abounds 
with  interesting  incidents,  and  the  whole  is  imbued  with  a  tone  of  the  highest  evansrelical 
piety.  The  writer  has  a  happy  faculty  of  adapting  himself  to  the  comprehension  of  the 
young,  at  the  same  time  that  he  instructs  and  entertains  the  old.  It  would  make  an 
appropriate  present  for  the  young,  and  may  be  the  means  of  doing  great  good.  Mr 
Tayler,  as  far  as  we  have  had  opportunity  to  judge,  is  quite  as  interesting  a  writer  as 
Charlotte  Elizateth,  and  far  less  bigoted  and  prejudiced.  Such  volumes  as  these  cannon 
be  too  widely  sjiread." — Evening  Post. 

"  We  are  pleased  to  see  a  second  American  edition  of  this  delightful  volume,  than  which 
few  fictions  are  pore  like  real  life  and  none  can  have  a  better  effect  upon  the  heart.  The 
author  has  been  eminently  successful  in  this  walk,  sketching  with  a  masterly  pen  both 
humble  and  moie  polished  life.  The  fidelity  with  which  the  inconsistencies  of  C'jristian* 
in  the  most  favo  -ed  worldly  circumstances  are  portrayed  in  this  volume  canndt  fail  te 
have  a  salutary  influence,  whi/  i  the  narrative  is  of  such  an  interest  as  to  induce  more  tbao 
•ae  reading  "—Commercial, 


Yaluahlc   Works,  published  by  Stanford  !f  Suord*. 

RICHARDSON^S    REASONS. 
The  Churchman's  Reasons  for  his  Faith  and  Practice. 

WITH    AN    APPENDIX    ON    THE    DOCTRINE    OF    DEVELOPMENT 
BY    THE 

REV.  N.  S.  RICHARDSON,  A.  M         *■ 

AUTHOR   OF  "  REASONS   WIIV   I  AM  A   CHURCHMAN,"   iC,   UC,   *C. 

Oae  volume.     12mo.     75c. 

CONTENTS.  Chapter  I— Introduction.  II— The  Church  a  Visible 
Society.  Ill — The  Ministry  Christ's  Positive  Institution.  IV — The  Chris- 
*ian  Ministry  consisting  of  Three  Orders.  V — Same  subject  continued 
VI — Same  subject  continued.  VII — Developments  of  Modera  Systems. 
VIII — The  Unity  of  the  Church,  and  the  Sin  and  Evils  of  Sc!'i..n.  IX — 
Liturgies.  X — Popular  Objections  against  the  Church  answered.  Appendix 
— Essay  on  the  Doctrine  of  Development. 

"  We  are  glad  to  see  this  book.  It  is  one  of  the  kind  which  the  ajfe  requires,  and  we 
are  happy  to  believe,  it  is  also  seeking.  Ther."  arp  e-irrest  minds  and  honest  hearts,  in 
every  religious  denomination,  who  see  the  evils  gropjiw?  out  of  the  divisions  in  Christen- 
dom, and  who  are  seriously  inquiring  whether  these  thiN-fs  ought  to  ne.  The  result  of 
such  an  investigation,  undertaken  with  such  a  purp..-?  oa^.  hardly  be  doubtful.  It  will 
be  a  conviction  that  'God  is  not  the  author  of  confusion  out  of  order;'  that  He  has 
instituted  but  one  Body  as  the  Church  ;  and  that  all  who  are  not  in  communion  with  this 
Body,  of  which  Christ  is  the  head,  are  in  what  the  Scriptures  call  schism.  Having  arrived 
at  this  point,  the  vital  question  comes,  what  is  the  Church?  Where  can  be  found  those 
signs  of  a  Divinely  orga;:ized  Body,  which,  originating  in  the  appointment  of  Christ,  has 
continued  to  this  day,  and  thus  gives  assurance  that  he  has  been  with  it  according  to  his 
promise,  is  with  it,  and  will  continue  to  be  with  it,  'even  unto  the  end  of  the  world?'  To 
those  who  are  seeking  for  instruction,  that  their  judgment  may  be  guided  to  a  right  deter- 
mination of  thi»  question,  we  recommend  this  timely  book.  The  subject  of  it  is,  'The 
Churck  of  God;  its  Visibility,  Ministry,  Unity,  and  Worship.' 

"We  are  glad  to  see  that  the  reverend  author  has  devoted  one  chapter  to  the  '  Develop- 
ments of  Modern  Systems.'  The  argument  derived  from  this  subject  is  calculated  more 
than  any  other,  we  think,  to  lead  men  to  discover  tlie  errors  and  unsoundness,  and  insuffi- 
ciency of  those  systems.  They  cannot  stand,  in  the  judgment  of  sober-minded  seekera 
sfter  trutli,  with  their  divisions,  vascillations  and  heresies;  before  the  Scriptural  truth. 
Apostolic  order,  regular  Succession,  and  uninterrupted  continuance  of  the  'Holy  Calholit 
Chorch.'  " — Banner  of  the  Croii 


WHAT  IS  CRISTIANITY? 

BY  THOMAS  VOWLER  SHORT, 
One  volume.      12?no.     50c. 

"Indistinctness  on  religious  subjects  is  a  great  evil,  particularly  to  the  young  ;  but  the- 
ological clearness  does  not  always  lead  to  Christian  edification  and  practical  holiness.  It 
has  been  the  endeavor  of  the  author  to  combine  distinct  views  on  the  leading  tenets  oi 
Christianity  with  that  earnestness,  without  which  religion  is  apt  to  dwindle  into  a  mere 
form.  He  has  tried  to  place  before  his  readers  not  words  only,  but  ideas-  to  give  thera 
that  which  might  guide  them  in  the  path  to  heaven — to  lnlpre^s  on  iliein  the  fundaraentul 
truths  of  our  holy  faith — and  to  point  out  how  tt's  faith  should  show  forth  its  effects  in  tlM 
■Kcurrences  oi  lift." 


Valuahl^   WorliS,  puhlished  by  Stanford  Sf  Swords. 


MERCY    TO    BABES: 

K  PLEA  FOR  THE  CHRISTIAN  BAPTISM  OF  INFANTS 

ADDRESSED  TO  THOSE  WHO  DENY  THE  VALIDITY  OF  THAT  PRACTICE, 
UPON  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  BAPTISiM,  AND  THE 
ETERNAL  SENSE  OF  HOLY  WaiT,  AND  OF  THE  DOMES- 
TIC. SOCIAL,  AND  RELIGIOUS  NATURE  OF  MAN 

CY    THE 

REV.  WILLIAM  ADAMS,  S.  T.P. 

rFKSBYTER    OF    THE    PROTESTANT    EPISCOPAL    CHURCH     IN    THE    DIOCESE    OF 
WISCONSIN. 

One  Volume.     12mo.     63c. 

"Adams'  '  Mercy  for  Babes 'is  a  book  of  rare  originality  and  power.  It  is  an  urgnment 
of  no  ordinary  cogency,  well  conceived,  and,  in  the  main,  well  pnt,  for  the  right  of  infants 
to  the  seal  of  lilessing  in  the  sacrament  of  baptism.  The  writer  eschews  controversy,  and 
undertakes  to  lay  down  his  doctrine,  and  prove  it,  on  its  own  merits  from  the  Bihle  only. 
He  does  it,  and  does  it  well.  We  know  a  case  in  which  his  cud  has  been  attained.  An 
anxious  and  intelligent  '  inquirer  '  was  distressed  by  some  of  the  common  specious  objec- 
tions to  infiint  baptism,  which  are  so  successful  with  the  many  who  have  neither  ability 
nor  inclination  to  examine  thoroughly  into  their  validity.  'Mercy  for  Babes,'  was  recom- 
mended, and  the  result  w.as  perfect  satisfaction.  The  ground  was  cut  up  beneath  the  con- 
troversial stalcmouts  that  had  given  trouble,  and  they  lost  all  their  value.  The  literal 
truth  of  Scripture  destroyed  them.  They  were  not  opposed — not  refuted — Ihere  was  no 
room  left  for  thein.  Truth,  exhibited  by  no  mealy-mouthed  as.serto,-,  hut  with  honest 
plainness  and  earnestness,  took  hold  of  the  mind,  convinced  it,  preoccupied  it,  and  left  no 
room  for  adverse  sophistry  and  filse  assertion. 

"But  one  need  not  be  in  perplexity  because  of  anti-paedo-baptist  assaults  on  the 
Church's  love  for  little  children,  to  profit  by  Mr.  Adams'  liook.  Not  for  many  a  day  have 
we  met  with  cue  that  will  better  repaj-  any  reader  for  his  trouble  and  time  laid  out  in 
giving  it  a  careful  perusal.  It  is  most  clearly  written  under  a  sense  of  want.  The  writer 
felt  that  he  hud  something  to  say  which  had  not  yet  been  said  as  he  could  say  it,  and  that 
no\\  was  the  time  to  give  it  utterance.  He  has  done  so  in  unstudied  honest  plainness,  and 
has  shown  that  he  was  right.  Late  years  have  brought  out  several  good  works  on  branches 
uf  the  pajdo-baptist  question  ;  this  is  the  first  that  h,is  touched  the  roof." — Church  Timts. 

'•We  have  peculiar  pleasure  in  announcing  the  work  whose  title  we  have  given  above 
in  full,  and  which  convey*  a  very  accurate  idea  of  the  peculiar  nature  of  the  track  which 
th"  author  has  chosen  to  pursue.  He  leaves  untouched  many  of  the  branches  of  tlie  ar.'U- 
inent  for  the  baptism  of  infants  which  have  already  been  ably  and  sufficiently  discussed 
by  preceding  writers,  and  confines  himself  to  what  he  well  calls  '  the  griind  ijurstinn' — 
its  moral,  reli^iicus,  domestic,  and  social  considerations;  rightly  judging  that  when  this  ia 
felt  as  it  should  be,  minor  questions  will  be  easily  agreed  upon.  He  is  e\idemly  in  earnest; 
ho  writes  fro.ii  the  heart;  and  only  seeks  readers  who  are  equally  in  earnest,  and  who  see 
,Tnd  feci  the  deep  and  solemn  importance  of  the  subject.  It  is  all  the  more  valuable  as 
'.I  hook  writt'ii  for  plain  peojile,  and  for  common  sense  people;'  and  that  the  authoi 
'  comes  forward,  not  as  a  controversialist  to  attack  others,  or  to  enter  into  discussion  with 
any  champion  of  the  opposite  views.'  'This,'  he  sa3's,  'is  not  his  object — his  purpose 
is  far  diflerent;  he  wishes  to  lay  clearly  and  plainly  before  those  who  doubt  or  deny  infant 
bnntism,  the  gioiinds  for  his  own  belief  that  are  to  be  found  in  ilie  Scripture: — to  lay  il 
^eful•e  them  as  persons  that  have  a  real  and  \ital  interest  in  it  as  professing'  Christians 
Bs  persons,  too,  that  have  the  Bible  in  their  hands,  are  bound  to  search  for  the  truth 
\!irre.'  "  -Ranner  of  the  Cross 


Valuable  Works,  published  by  Stanford  If  Swords. 

MARGARET;    OR,   THE    PEARL. 


B  Y    T  H  E 

REV.  CHARLES   B.TAYLER, 

AUTHOR  OF  "  LADY  MART,"  "  KECOKDS  OF  A  GOOD  MAN'S  LIFE,"  &C.  4C. 

In  one  handsome  duodecimo  volume.     75c. 


^.  good  book  may  be  coniparod  to  a  dear  and  iaitliAiI  fiiciid,  always  wolcome,  and 
rf»fi-'injr  its  iiirtiience  to  clieer  iiiid  freshen  the  pathway  of  life.  To  this  chiss  the  writingi 
)f  the  pious  and  jfiftod  author  of  the  present  voliinie  justly  belong-.  The  favorable  recep 
lion,  by  a  discerning  public,  of  two  of  the  works  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Tayler,  recently  issuei 
■"roni  their  press,  has  encouraged  the  publishers  to  add  a  third  ;  confidently  believin;.'  thr 
the  valuable  instructions  and  examples  abounding  in  it,  apart  from  the  great  interest  oi 
the  narrative  itself,  will  render  '  Margaret'  no  unfit  companion  to  'The  Records  of  ? 
(lood  Man's  Life,'  and  '  Lady  Mar}'."  All  tlirce  are  worlliy  a  place  in  every  family  am 
parish  library." — Publishers'  Preface. 

"  Those  who  have  read  f.ady  Mury,'  and  '  The  Records  of  a  Ocod  Man's  Life,"  will 
be  an.xious  to  peruse  this  olume.  It  is  one  of  those  gems  of  religious  fiction,  which  tcacl; 
truth  in  a  manner  eciu'  y  calculated  to  inform  the  mind  and  impress  the  heart,  without 
exciting  appeals  to  the  magination.  ur  unwholesome  stimulants  to  the  religious  sensibiii 
tics." — Protestant  Churchman. 

"  We  arc  glad  to  see  this  work  republisi|cd  here.  It  is  a  book  for  the  family,  convey 
'ng  instruction  and  awakening  reflection,  while  it  arrests  the  attention,  and  retains  it  by 
;«3  Irulhfulncss  of  its  domestic  scenes." — Evcninrr  Qazette. 

•'  It  IS  unnecessary  to  say,  except  to  those  who  are  unacquainted  with  this  gifted  au- 
thor's other  writings,  that  the  volume  is  both  hi.'hiy  instructive  and  attractive." — SoutherS 
CUurchmnn. 

"  A  pleasing  narrative  of  pride  and  wealth  subdued  to  sufTerini!  and  humiliation,  am 
fal.fe  opinions  overcome  by  faitii  in  (Christ.  NoUiiii,'  couKI  be  more  [iroper  and  Christian 
like  than  tl  e  tone  and  temper  of  this  liltle  volume,  which  will  be  read  by  (he  religiouj 
with  pleasure  and  profit.  It  is  very  prettily  sent  fiirlh  by  the  American  publishers."— 
Siuihern  Patriot. 

"The  ty|io^'r.iphy  and  genend  iippivirmice  of  the  volume  is  hijbly  ere  Viable  to  Sh» 
uublishurs." — Albany  Ectnin^  Jt/uraal. 


Valuable  Works,  published  by  Stanford  <^  Swords. 
ENGLISH     CHURCHWOMEN  '^ 

OF    THE 

SEVENTEENTH    CENTURY. 

One^  Volume.     18/no.     50c. 

•'  This  is  a  small  and  very  neat  edition  o!  a  most  deliglilful  and  useful  book.  It  coatain* 
the  bioj;raphy  of  such  excellent  characters  as  Viscountess  Falkland,  the  Countess  of  Car 
berry,  Lady  Capel,  and  Alary  F.velyn.  We  cannot  think  of  a  better  volume  to  put  iota 
the  Parish  Library  and  the  Family  Circle.  Wherever  it  goes,  it  must  exert  a  most  bo 
niga  influence." — Calendar. 

•'A  charming  compendium  of  female  biography,  of  which  it  must  have  occurred  to  thii 
reader  tlicre  is  a  lack  in  our  literature.  Of  course,  as  tlin  title  implies,  the  uiemorials  at* 
confined  to  members  of  the  Established  Church  of  England,  but  that  makes  them  no  lo>« 
interesting  and  certainly  no  less  profitable  to  the  religious  reader,  since  the  principles  Oi 
virtue  and  religion  are  subjects  for  delightful  contemplation,  and  profitable  withal,  what 
ever  their  incidental  relation  or  position.  We  are  glad  to  possess  and  commend  to  othwrn 
this  excellent  publication." — N.  Y.  Commercial. 

"No  iatelligent  Chr'stiancan  read  these  biographical  notices,  without  meeting  with  traJ/ 
of  character  well  worthy  of  admiration  and  imitation." — Soutliern  Churchman. 


LATHROP'S  APOSTOLIC  SUCCESSION. 

CHRIST'S  WARNING  TO  THE  CHURCHES : 


WITH  AV   APPENDIX   ON  THE 


APOSTOLIC    SUCCESSION. 


REV.  JOSEPH  LATHROP,  D.  D. 

WITH    AN    INTRODUCTORY    NOTICE    BY    THE    REV.  J.  M.  WAI.V WRIGHT,  O.  D. 

Handsome  lfi>«o.     50c. 

'•A  Treatise  on  the  necessitj'  of  external  ordination,  and  of  a  succession  from  the  Apos- 
tles to  constitute  valid  Orders,  from  a  Congregational  minister,  is  somewhat  of  an  anomaly 
Tet  this  is  such  a  one.  The  author  was  settled  in  West  Springfield,  Mass.,  and  delivered 
and  published  these  sermons  on  the  occasion  of  being  visited  and  annoyed  by  an  itinerant 
preacher  who  "  made  great  pretensions  to  piety,"  and  "  taught  that  every  saint  has  a  right 
to  preach."  The  work  in  its  present  republished  form,  cannot  fail  to  be  useful  in  teaching 
men  froin  whence  authority  to  preach  the  Gospel  is  to  be  derived. —  Calendar 

"Here  we  have  a  defence  of  the  apostolic  succession,  written  by  an  eminent  Coiisrregs- 
tionalist,  the  Rev.  Joseph  Lathrop,  and  edited  by  a  high  Churclnnan,  the  Rev.  Ur.  Wain- 
Wright.  It  is  a  good  book,  although  something  of  a  curiosity  in  its  way.  ft  is  g  itten  up 
in  l^a8)f«r<l  and  SwonUs's  m«ui1  neat  and  lastefuJ  style."     Recorder. 


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